


Translation Error

by cybernya



Series: Translation Error [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Romance, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybernya/pseuds/cybernya
Summary: Commander Wolffe doesn’t do well with protocol droids or relief efforts. He’d rather be out on the front line, fighting the war. Instead, he’s stuck delivering supplies to outer-rim planets who have requested the help of the Republic. General Plo Koon says they’re orders, says that it’s a necessary part of war. Wolffe knows this, but it also means he’s stuck working with a blasted protocol droid... until you show up.
Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader
Series: Translation Error [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656553
Comments: 60
Kudos: 340





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by S4E5 of The Clone Wars. I just... really love the Troopers, okay?

The 104th was running yet another relief mission, with a precious drop of food and medical supplies. Commander Wolffe wasn’t exactly thrilled - his past few relief responses usually involved a protocol droid that didn’t know how to stop itself from getting into trouble or when to stop talking. He’d rather avoid the need for it if he could, but there was something about communicating with the locals and a need to be respectful to other cultures.

Right.

“Looks like we’re ready to head out,” Warthog said, hand to the temple of his helmet. “If this is anything like Aleen, we’re going to be in for quite a time.”

Aleen. Where that blasted hunk of junk talked his ear off after disappearing for too long. 

“Where’s the blasted protocol droid?” Wolffe groaned, looking at the datapad in his hands. “We’re due out and —“ 

“And you won’t be taking a droid with you.”

Wolffe snapped around to see a shorter woman in the olive-gray suit other non-clone officials wore.

You cleared your throat. 

“General Plo Koon thought a droid might exacerbate what’s happening down there,” you said, introducing yourself as a translator.

Boost, from behind Warthog, grinned wolfishly. He shoved his helmet on and went back to loading the rest of the transport, the two occupied as Wolffe simply stared at you.

“I wasn’t aware that the cultural status of —“ he started, looking down to remember what blasted backwater planet they were delivering goods to, “whatever. If General Plo Koon directed this, then I trust he has a better understanding of what is going on than this report.”

You fidgeted, hands clasped behind your back - all proper as you’re stared down. You’d been told there was a… reputation amongst the 104th with droids by the general himself. This whole arrangement probably saved a headache on all ends.

“Load up, we plan to land as soon as possible.” Wolffe tries not to notice the way you shake off your nerves as he gestures for you to join the rest of the squadron. 

Since when did the Republic keep actual human translators, anyway? 

The remaining members of the 104th introduced themselves to you as the transport neared the drop zone. Your hands sat in your lap as you learned the distinguishing marks on their armor, learning Warthog from Boost from Comet from Wildfire from Sinker. 

Wolffe was easy to distinguish - the wolf on his shoulder pad was a clear mark that he was the leader of this pack. 

Behind their visors, the 104th was practically preening at all of the attention. Boost had opened comms to discuss you when they were finishing loading the ship, wondering what kind of woman you were and why you were stuck wearing those drab grays. (He definitely planned on putting on the charm - what’s the harm in a little flirting.)

The transport rocked and Boost watched you jump slightly - had you ever been on a transport before? He snickered and Wildfire reminded him to be nice.

_I am being nice!_

_Nice isn’t laughing as the poor woman is stuck dealing with us and a rocky transport!_

_You want to see nice? I’ll show ya nice then._

“C’mon, let’s get ready to land,” Boost said, offering you a hand. 

You blinked - perfectly comfortable in your seat and definitely not tall enough to reach the handles to be “ready” for landing.

Wolffe noticed your hesitation.

“I don’t need any injuries before we land,” he sighed, gesturing to you. “She’ll be better off sitting for this one. Terrain is rocky.”

“Yes, Commander.” Boost sulked away, crossing his arms over his chest as the transport began its descent.

Commander Wolffe was very right in the sense that you’d probably injure yourself had you been standing. You don’t have armor like them, nor do you have the instincts and training they were created for. His brain crawled as he looked at you, your hands wringing in your lap as the transport landed., and said something along the lines of “her job is to be good with her mouth” but he’d never be bitter enough to say it out loud. 

General Plo Koon personally recommended you for this job, you reminded yourself. Communication Officers rarely served a purpose, what with protocol droids being so popular and easy to program. But he saw something in you - he has for a while - and you’d trust him.

Hopefully nothing important was left out of the planet briefing you’d poured over.

  
  
  


You trail behind Wolffe as he descends the ramp, the rest of the 104th behind you. He was right - the terrain was rocky, but lush with trees further down from where the transport had landed. A small group of Enu greeted you.

Commander Wolffe side-eyed you with his one good eye - you’d been walking to his left, but struggling to keep up. 

At least she wasn’t some babbling droid, he told himself, resigning himself to this entire relief effort (again). 

“[Welcome to Deylerax,]” the one in the middle of the group bowed, and you returned the gesture.

“[We are the 104th Batallion from the Grand Army of the Republic,]” you started, glancing up to watch Commander Wolffe’s face before continuing; “[we come bearing supplies that you have requested from the Republic. We hope that we can help distribute these for you as a sign of goodwill. To my right here is Commander Wolffe. General Plo Koon sends his regards.]”

Commander Wolffe bows slightly like you had done before.

“[Is the Commander available for conversation? We’d like to welcome him personally,]” their leader seems to ask, “[though we understand if he would like to begin moving supplies down to the colony.]”

You repeat, in basic, what their leader asks. 

“Tell them I’d like to take them up on th’offer, but we’ve got a lot of supplies to move,” he said, looking from the audience down to you as you spoke.

“[Unfortunately, Commander Wolffe politely declines. His focus is on unloading the supplies so your people can return to a sense of normalcy.]”

Commander Wolffe notices the little things about you when he stares down - the way your lips move around his name, his title, and how your eyes have a sparkle when you’re figuring how to how to phrase something. The language seems formal, by the way you’re holding yourself and the fact that there’s definitely more syllables than what he originally said.

“[That is fine. Please join us yourself, then,]” the leader gestures, “[and partake in a tradition for offworlders.]”

“Commander,” you started, the leader eagerly awaiting your response, “they’d like me to join them in your place. Something about a tradition for offworlders…”

“Go take care of whatever diplomacy y’have to,” he said, gesturing to the group in front of them. If it meant he didn’t have to worry about her, all armorless and definitely untrained, then great. Less things for him to worry about. “Boost --” he was going to _regret_ this one, “escort the officer to her destination. Make sure everything’s clear.”

“Yes sir!” Boost practically leaps to join your side. Sinker, besides him, tilts his head in curiosity as he notices his brother puff his chest out slightly.

You don’t, too focused on exchanging introductions with the Enu leaders. They wave you on and you try not to trip over yourself, the incline of the hill steep compared to the rather flat ships you were used to walking on.

“Think she’ll be okay, Boss?” Warthog asks over the comms as Wolffe puts his helmet back on. 

“She knows how to use her --” _mouth_ “--words. Seemed like a natural. Now we’ve got a lot to unload and move downhill for the Enu. Let’s keep moving!” Wolffe commanded, directing the pack back to the transports.

With the officer keeping the locals busy, he could work in peace.

Thank the stars.

  
  
  


“Communications Officer, huh? I didn’t realize the General kept one around. Thought that job was for, y’know, the droids,” Boost said, trying not to make it too obvious that he was trying to memorize the curve of your hips in that awfully boring uniform. It’d been a while since they had a nice leave break, at least one that included somewhere with women to look at.

His helmed it a blessed thing in the moment.

“It is, technically,” you said, looking over at him. Your ponytail swung behind you, keeping in step as you listened to the Enu leadership. “I was personally recommended for this by the General himself. He thought I’d be a good fit.”

“You’ve got that right,” Boost laughed, and you find it almost comforting. He sounded like he was going to say something else, but one of the leaders slowed down and began a conversation with you.

“[This tradition is a long-honored welcome for offworlders. We’re glad you’re able to participate in place of your Commander!]” she smiled, taking one of your hands. 

“Apparently, Boost, this is a long-standing tradition,” you smiled, looking from the woman at one side to the trooper at your other. 

“What is it?” he asked, watching as you repeated the question.

“[We drink to a long and beautiful partnership!]” she chirped, eyes wrinkling in excitement. 

“Drinking, Boost. We drink together, apparently.” 

“There’s no way that’s a real, long and old tradition,” he scoffed, shaking his head as they entered the colony village. Commander Wolffe would be inclined to agree, so he decided not to explain on the comms that the communications officer would be drinking during this apparent tradition. “Been told to just stand and watch, so I think I’ll join the party for a little while - not participating, obviously.”

“[Boost will be remaining with me, if that is okay,]” you said quickly, earning a nod of approval as the leadership group opens the door to a small cottage before they usher you inside.

He removes the helmet and you blink, surprised by the shock of red shaved into two neat lines, a mohawk split in two, followed by the scars across his face.

“After you, officer.”

You opened your mouth to comment about unnecessary chivalry but whatever it was, died as the same woman from before pulled you in, all smiles and laughter. She sits you down on a large cushion, the room warm and comfortable, her hands on your shoulders. 

“[You will now drink with our dear leader Drakal!]” she cheers, and one of the others - not Drakal, as he’s seated across from you on a similar cushion - brings out a large bottle of whiskey.

“That’s quite the bottle,” Boost comments, helmet tucked under his arm. “Maybe the Commander should’ve been down here himself. That’s a Wolffe-sized serving.”

You throw him a look, but it seems that the rest of the group understands the praise for the bottle. They break out two glasses - only two drink in this tradition, Avari explains, finally having full introduced herself.

“[Only one member from each group drinks. Drakal is pleased to know that you appreciate his selection of whiskey, from the look on your comrade’s face,]” she says, patting your head before taking a seat next to you. 

“[We will both take turns drinking, officer. It has been a while since we’ve had another woman join in the tradition! I am sure we will have a long and prosperous friendship with you and the Republic. I cannot thank you enough for everything you have brought us,]” Drakal smiles, which you, in turn, translate for Boost to understand.

He squints from his spot at the wall slightly. This sounded suspiciously like a drinking game played in the back booth of 79’s with some of the other troopers. There was no way this was actually a tradition for the Enu people…

Commander Wolffe directed his battalion to create a makeshift kitchen, alongside a medical tent in the center of the colony village. It’d taken a few hours to move the crates from the transports at the top of what felt more like a mountain than a hill, but they’d managed it. 

“Boost, are you still with our officer?” he asked into the comms, waiting for a response. Boost had been quieter than normal, either because of whatever fuck-all tradition they’d been participating in, or because he was too busy oogling the poor communications officer.

Probably too busy oogling.

Wolffe rolled his eyes and asked for a response again, a little more irritation apparent in his voice.

Boost had given up standing against the wall after the fourth shot.

You were laughing, face hot from the alcohol and lack of food. Whatever whiskey you were drinking was strong, you noted, as you finished another shot. You were warm against the trooper, leaning up against him in an attempt not to fall over. 

I think I’m in love, Boost thinks to himself, looking down as he notices your uniform top slightly undone, pulled away from your neck and chest to reveal your undershirt. Definitely in love.

The large bottle was mostly empty at this point, Drakal nearly folded in half as he laughs too.

“[‘m surprised a little thing like y’could keep up,]” he slurs, and you laugh again.

“[ ‘m not tha’ - HIC - lil’,]” you say before barely managing to get it out in Basic for Boost.

He, in turn, raises his eyebrows. This was impressive, really, drinking on the levels of not only the welcoming Enu, but almost on the same level as Wolffe that he’d witnessed only a handful of times. “You’re quite the drinker,” he laughs, the comm kit on his wrist lighting up. 

“Boost, please tell me you’re not --” comes Commander Wolffe’s exasperated voice. 

You cover your mouth as Avari pours another shot for the two of you, the giggles hard to control.

“I’m not doin’ anythin’, Commander,” Boost replies hurriedly, almost hissing into the receiver. “Everythin’s fine over here, sir.”

Except for the very loud cheering that came from you and your drinking partner, followed by a very loud, and slurred, “[CHEERS!]”

“Is that the Officer I hear?”

Shit.

You look down at the blinking kit.

“C-Commander Wolffe?” you stammer, “[we’re still taking part in the tradition.]”

“Basic, Officer. Please speak to me in Basic.” 

Boost looks like he’s shit himself while Drakal lays back on his own large cushion, laughing hysterically. 

“ ‘m drinkin’ wiff Sir Drakal,” you manage to get out, shot glass refilled once again. 

“Kriff, is she drunk? Boost, what the fuck is going on?” Wolffe hisses, shouting off-line to Sinker. 

“Well, the welcoming tradition is for the leaders to drink together,” Boost explains, looking down nervously as you place your hand back over his thigh plate as it’d been about an hour ago. His throat tightens as you lean on him, tossing back another shot. 

“One drink is reasonable, maybe two. I don’t think whatever amount our dear translator has ingested qualifies as reasonable,” the commander groans, running a hand down his face. “I’m on my way. Just.. stay there.”

Oh, Boost was totally fucked when they finished this relief effort.

It was definitely worth you smiling at him, claiming victory over a now passed-out Drakal. Avari pours what little whiskey remains into your glass, giving you another pat on the head. You lean into the touch, and Boost reminds himself to save that for later.

  
  


What Commander Wolffe finds upon entering the cottage is… almost worse than he expected. You’re babbling to Avari, happily, in the Enu language, hands moving excitedly. Boost is openly watching. He sighs, exasperated.

“Boost, return to camp. I’ll take care of the officer,” he orders, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll debrief later.”

“Yessir!” Boost practically runs out of there, hoping he’ll still be alive for another chance at the front lines after everything is said and done.

“Excuse me, officer,” he starts carefully, leaning over your cushion. “It’s about time we head back to camp.” He tries to avoid looking down your disheveled uniform top, clearing his throat.

You turned to Wolffe, wide eyes blinking. 

“[See! See! He - HIC - he’s here. ‘Nd like a - a god!]” you babble to Avari, who nods in agreement. 

“[They all are! So strong looking and brave,]” she comments, turning to Wolffe. “[You have a wonderful woman on your hands. Keep her safe.]”

Wolffe looks between the two of you, shaking his head. “I really do not need this.”

You giggle and mumble something in Enu - it sounds exactly like what the woman had just said to him, like you’re repeating it to yourself, etching it into your memory.

“I hate local traditions,” he groans, moving around to ease you off the cushion.

You’re pliant - and very drunk - in his grasp, legs almost like the jelly from the mess hall a few weeks ago. You’re full of laughter as you stumble out of the sitting area, and Wolffe clearly isn’t having it.

“Officer can you just -” he starts, trying to guide you to the door but you’re barely able to move in a straight line.

You turn and stare at him, and were this some encounter at 79’s, he’d been feeling quite differently about the large bottle of whiskey you emptied. You were very much out of regulation, black tank top peeking out of your askew uniform top.

“I’m going to carry you,” he says, more like a reassurance for himself that he has to carry the damn communications officer back to camp. “And you’re going to regret this all in the morning.”

“Mm, bu’ Boost says ‘ma goo’ drinker,” you slur, in Basic, finally, as Wolffe carries his helmet in one hand, and you over his shoulder with the other.

“Officer, you’ll come to learn that Boost says a lot of things. Now please don’t move, we’re returning back to camp for the night.” _And I’d rather not drag you along, please make this at least a little easy for me._

You wiggle against Wolffe’s shoulder pauldron - the plasticore uncomfortable and causing your top to stick to your skin - and you heard the commander groan.

He’s trying to ignore the weight of you on his shoulder, though easy for him to carry, and the feeling of your hips against his hand from where he’s holding onto you. There’s also your warmth, mostly from the alcohol, radiating against his face.

“What in the fucking Outer Rim did you drink?” he asks, not expecting an answer.

You wiggle again, followed by a laugh. “ _HIC -_ Enu whiskey,” you slur, “ol’ stuff, strong stuff. Avari - Avari said it was spechul.”

There’s silence as Wolffe weaves the two of your between buildings for a moment.

“Y’know, she - she said you were spechul,” you continued. 

Wolffe thinks to himself for a moment that maybe a protocol droid would’ve been better than the hot mess of a communications officer he was hauling around. General Plo was going to have his ass if he found out.

“Like - like a god. All - hehe - all strong likea god, and - and - and --”

The Commander stops, looking over his shoulder. Your sentence turned into a babble of syllables and fragments of words he can’t make out, mixed with laughter. Your chest vibrates against his pauldron and he feels it, feels you _laughing_ and --

Nope, can’t do that.

He shifts you on his shoulder again and continues on towards where the 104th had made their base. Sinker’s on watch, even if you all know that the planet is safe, and Boost is talking about something that’s got him riled up.

Wolffe notices you’d fallen asleep in the few minutes between the last buildings and the camp, and he’s thankful, really. 

“How’s my _wife_ , Commander?” Boost asks, all tooth and grin and a slight bit of lust, following him to the makeshift racks they’d put together. At this point, he figured he’d get his ass kicked to Kamino and back, so he continued as Wolffe laid you on one of the cots, “Isn’t she grand?”

Thwack.

The Commander lands one square in the jaw, causing Boost to stumble backward. “That’s for letting her get into this state, asshole,” he hisses, “we’ll talk about this further tomorrow, but a wasted translator is not what we needed!”

“Better than some shiny translatin’ for us,” Boost snapped back, cradling his jaw. 

“She’s an officer! It’s hardly been a rotation and you’re leering at her like the waitresses at 79’s,” Wolffe groans, running both hands over his face. He’s too fucking tired for this. 

You shift on the cot, mumbling something neither trooper could make out.

“Go take over watch from Sinker,” he orders, digging a blanket out from one of the crates by the cot. 

As he lays it over you, you come to for a moment, eyes heavy from the liquor. It’s a different look from the one on the transport, a different look from the cottage - shit, it’s a different look than anything he’s seen with his brothers before.

It hits him in the chest, seeing someone so vulnerable like that in front of him.

“Go back to sleep, officer. You’ll need it for th’morning,” he whispers, voice husky and low. 

You comply, a hum sounding from you as you shove your face further into the pillow.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all, Wolffe told himself.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Below is the result of me channeling a lot of anger into writing energy. I guess that's why it's 2.8k! Whoops! (I also needed a pick-me-up after finishing the Umbara arc. I'm not okay.)

“Good mornin’ sunshine.”

You can’t quite pick out who’s calling out to you - your ears are ringing and your head feels like it’s about to explode. You shove your face further into the pillow, ignoring the fact that you’d love to jump in the non-existent refresher and just  _ die _ .

“I think it’s time you come back to the land of the living, Officer.”

It’s the Commander.

You groan.

“Dun’wanna,” you mumble, trying to stop the pulsing in your temple and in your ears and behind your eyes.

You’ll realize later that you’re being too casual for conversing with your Commander but you can’t be assed.

Not in this state.

“Everything hurts.”

“Well, considering how you managed to drink Sir Drakal under the table,” he says, leaning over your cot, “I’m not surprised.”

“Ididwhat—“ you get out, breathless and panicked, and sitting up far too quickly.

Oh. 

There’s the whiskey.

Your head spins and you want to cry, bile threatening the back of your throat. Not the way you wanted to start your morning on the second day of working with the 104th. As you sit up, you fix your disheveled and now wrinkled uniform top - hopefully you weren’t too out of regulation for the Commander. 

You try to remember what happened last night, but there’s nothing there. 

You remember getting to the cottage, noticing Boost’s red hair - and that was it.

“Can’t have you dying on me,” Wolffe hums, handing you a variety of packs. “The General would hate to replace you with a droid.”

You take the packs and drop them onto the cot, grimacing. Right, paste and pack city down here. One of them you don’t seem to recognize - some sort of homebrew mix of stim and hydration packs - and a thanks falls from your lips.

“How’d I get back here?” You mutter, ripping open the homebrew pack first. “I don’ remember anything…”

“You managed to stumble your way back last night,” he lies, trying not to stare too much as you kill the first pack, and then another of just pure stim. 

“Oh.”

You faintly remember someone’s arm around you - maybe they’d guided you back? Not an item of concern, though. You had work to do.

Wolffe shifts awkwardly and puts his helmet back on. “I’ll need you today to help me. Try not to wander off.”

You watch as he walks out, lips in a thin line as you swing your legs over the side of the cot. 

“Look who’s alive!” Boost grinned, applauding you as you made your apparent debut. You noticed he had a bruise against his jaw, though faded from the night of rest. “The Champion is here!”

You roll your eyes and wave them off - the rest of the 104th Wolfpack joined in on applauding your drinking abilities. Your face felt hot and you hoped your greys weren’t too wrinkled. 

“Hey Boost, looks like your wife is still breathing!” Sinked laughed, elbowing the other trooper.

Boost quickly shoved his helmet on and you froze on the spot.

“I’m sorry, what?” You stammer, the battalion too loud and the sun too bright for your current state. You squint and look between the two, not noticing as Commander Wolffe came to loom behind you.

“It - It was a joke! Real funny, Sinker, ha ha,” Boost laughs nervously, shaking his head. Under his visor, he was panicking - you were definitely  _ not  _ supposed to find you he’d called you his wife. At all.

“I don’t think the sole female officer of our battalion appreciates jokes about being someone’s wife,” Wolffe snaps, causing you to turn around. “Troopers, we have more supplies to bring from the top of the mountain. Sinker, Boost, take some of the others and bring the supplies into the village. Officer, follow me.”

You stumble as you turn around, barely enough space between yourself and the commander. The packs - more specifically, that homebrew pack - seemed to be helping greatly, though you wish you had the trooper’s recovery speed to cease the pounding in your head.

The two of you walked together in silence into the village - Commander Wolffe keeping the silence out of respect for your state, and because he had no idea what else to say. You fixed your hair as you walked, wishing you had a helmet to hide the bags under your eyes.

You also broke the silence first, hands now clasped behind your back as you neared the village center.

“Do we have an estimated time of completion?” you ask, “or is that being determined today?”

Wolffe grunts in agreement. You’re smart, he notes, and obviously so in order to be a communications officer in a universe of protocol droids and data pads. “We’re meeting with Drakal now. I’m hoping you can speed up the process.”

“Right, of course, sir.”

As you round the corner, you’re met with applause from the Enu people themselves. Your headache picks up a bit, but you hide the grimace as Drakal greets you proudly.

“[It is an honor to see you again, officer,]” he grins, to which you respectfully bow. “[Knowing that the communications officer of this battalion is as strong as their Commander is impressive. You have a truly impressive leader and method of leadership, Commander Wolffe. Please send my regards to your General.]”

You translate the leader’s words to Wolffe, who, in turn, removes his helmet. He bows as you had before - General Plo did always follow the way of the people they were helping.

“While I appreciate your praise,” Wolffe started, as you began to translate by his side, “I do not believe it belongs solely to myself of the commander. The Officer’s efforts last night are a reflection of the entire Grand Army of the Republic, and the adaptability of those people.”

You swallow nervously - was that a compliment?

“[Of course. Shall we determine a course of action for the relief supplies? Your men work at great speeds,]” Avani exclaims, “[so we wish to thank you once everything is completed.]”

“It seems they want to thank us once we’re done unloading everything,” you translate, looking up at the commander. You’re distracted by the scar on his face, the pounding in your ears not helping before you realize he was saying something. 

“Tell them it’s not necessary -” he starts, but Avari notices the body language.

“[Please, do not refuse what we would like to gift you. There’s more whiskey like last night if that helps convince you,]” she says, and you grimace at the thought of drinking anything besides a hydration pack until the thudding behind your eye disappears.

“She says there’s more whiskey like what I was lucky enough to drink last night,” you finally say, smiling weakly and Avani and Drakal. “And that it’s a gift. Enu customs state that -”

“A gift is a gift. Right.” Wolffe nods, noticing how Avari nods in agreement. He would regret giving the likes of Boost alcohol while the officer was present, but rules were rules. “Tell her we accept, but only once the work is completed.”

“[Commander Wolffe graciously accepts your gift, but on the terms that it is only delivered upon completion of the relief supplies being dispersed,]” you explain, not noticing the way that Wolffe watches you speak. 

He’d only ever worked with protocol droids before - and not by choice, either. They were clumsy, noisy, and definitely a pain in the ass to direct. You, despite your headache, acted with the same level of professionalism as the day before. General Plo would be proud.

Sir Drakal bows in delight before gesturing for the group to follow him back to the cottage from the night before. “[Please, follow us to the cottage so we can appropriately plan methods of delivery for the people who need it the most.]”

  
  


With the help of some of the Enu people, the 104th is able to unload the complete shipment of medical supplies and food from the Republic before nightfall. You learn that the Separatists and the Trade Federation had diverted a much needed trading post from the planet to one just a few clicks away, in an effort to put pressure on Drakal and the leadership. They refused to join, and so they were left to rot until the Republic heard their cry for help.

“D’ya think she likes redheads?” Boost asks, taking off his helmet as they walked back down the rocky mountain towards base.

“I don’t think she likes you,” Comet retorts, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh come on, y’shoulda seen her last night! She was pounding back shots like she had been possessed by the spirit of Commander Wolffe on leave at 79’s! She was even leaning on me, all warm an’ smiley...” 

“I didn’t realize your wife even liked you,” Sinker laughs, “given the fact that you’ve known her for less than forty-eight hours. I think that’s a new record.”

“Oh piss off, Sinker,” Boost groans, flipping off the blonde. “Remind me to find a datapad when we’re off this planet, I need to try and look’er up.”

“Of course you do,” Comet sighs, shaking his head.

The trio notice that the camp is louder than usual - they’d been given the all clear to return, but what they returned to find was not what they expected.

“You were the one who asked me what Avari said!” you hiss, one hand at your temple. Your headache had thankfully subsided after your fourth hydration pack, though you were tempted to try and find another homebrew pack from earlier this morning.

“I did, yes, you’re correct,” Commander Wolffe groans as he rolls his eyes, “but I didn’t think she’d actually be  _ flirting _ with me!”

Boost snorts, while Comet and Sinker cover their own chuckles. “Guess the party’s already started!”

Wolffe snaps around to the trooper and stares him down, eyes narrowing in irritation. The faint glow of his fake eye as the sun sets is intimidating, but you don’t shrink back. 

“Listen, we’ll be out of here in the morning. The Enu people have graciously gifted us a celebration in thanks for the hard work and the supplies,” Sinker says, removing his helmet and tucking it under his arm. “You can forget about being hit on after a few shots.”

“You bowed to her earlier! Of course she’s going to think you’re flirting with her. Second-in-command meeting another second-in-command? It’s just a misinterpretation, a--” you offer before you’re cut off by the commander.

“Translation error?” He’s staring at you, and there’s nowhere for you to hide.

“I think Boost would like you to ease up on his -”  _ thunk “-  _ our communications officer. You can’t blame her for wanting a piece, can you?” Sinker offers, an unsaid  _ isn’t it nice to feel wanted _ hanging in the air.

Commander Wolffe rolls his eyes, turning into the tent and leaving you alone with the rest of the Battalion. You finally let out the breath that you’d held since being cut off, sagging slightly.

A drink actually sounded nice right about now. 

Boost, Sinker, and the rest of the Wolfpack and 104th escort you down to the village, the commander staying behind to finish up reports for General Plo. He’ll join you at some point, he claimed, but you weren’t sure if he’d want to show his face to Avari after the conversation you translated earlier.

“Where were you before this?” Comet asks as the group is greeted by Drakal.

“Hang on --” you smile, introducing the men behind you to the leader. You bow, and they follow suit - though a bit awkwardly. “I was stationed on Coruscant to work with any groups who refused to use a translator droid in their negotiations.” 

“.. that explains a lot,” Sinker laughs, graciously accepting a glass from Avari. “If you can’t tell, Commander Wolffe doesn’t quite agree with the little guys.”

“I’ve heard. It is true about the Enu people and droids, though,” you explain, hesitantly taking a glass from an excited Drakal. “[Sir, I don’t think I’ll be able to --]”

The Enu leader laughs, raising his glass to you. “[You’ve earned it today. You are a great speaker. Commander Wolffe is lucky to have you serving alongside him.]”

Boost nudges you, asking what Drakal said, which you politely repeat to the troopers at your side. A hand clasps your shoulder - Comet’s? - and they all raise their glass.

“[Cheers!]” Drakal shouts, with those all around you matching the toast. The troopers attempt to repeat the salutation, although dreadfully, before tossing back the contents of their glass.

Wolffe watches from a distance - he’s trying to avoid being spotted by Avari, who had definitely said some questionable things earlier. You’re a natural with the group, and with words, clearly. He watches as you fit right in, loosening up as the pack welcomes you. (He thinks, as Boost tries to get an arm around your shoulder, that maybe some of them are a bit too welcoming. As Commander, he should probably step in and -)

“And you haven’t joined in, Commander?” Warthog asks upon approach, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Surprising. You’re never one to turn down a free drink.”

“I’d rather be off planet by now,” he says, holding up an empty cup as he rolls his eyes. “Plus, their own commander seems to be interested in me.”

“She’s a good fit,” the pilot adds, dumping the remainder of his glass into the commander’s. “You’ll have to thank General Plo for her. Already managed to diffuse Boost’s temper when he thought one of their own was flirting with her.”

Another eye roll. Warthog smirks. 

“Boost came back screamin’ like the universe was going to end before you came back with her last night,” he adds, shrugging. “Quite the sight, actually.”

Wolffe watches as you sip your refilled drink carefully, translating a conversation between the pack and a small group of Enu. 

“I wonder if General Plo will allow us to keep her on…”

You turn around, wondering when Wolffe would show up to the celebration. Boost was close on your left, ready to brag about you and your abilities to anyone, even if they didn’t understand Basic. Sinker’s trying his best to not laugh as Comet drinks directly from a bottle - you didn’t want to get involved - when you spot the commander.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, watching as you wave him into the center of the party. The look you give him is one he can’t refuse, so he complies.

“I’ve been looking for you!” you say, all smile and warmth and pretend anger and no, he can’t -- “You owe me a shot after what I did last night.” 

“Is that so?” Wolffe is buzzed enough that he doesn’t mind this, doesn’t mind what could be considered flirting with you, “because I distinctly remember carrying your ass back to camp, officer.”

Boost backs away from you, panic in his eyes as you stammer.

“I thought you said -” you barely manage to get out, now realizing that the feeling you had this morning was correct. Someone  _ had _ carried you, an arm slung around your waist.

Wolffe smirks, wolfish and wishing he wasn’t your commander for a split second before reminding himself it’s not happening.  _ Avari  _ was interested in him, not you, and after tomorrow, you’d probably never cross paths again. He couldn’t get attached, not during war, not while he’ll return to the front lines serving his General and his people. A passing Enu filled the commander’s glass, which he promptly emptied while staring you down.

You open and close your mouth repeatedly at an uncharacteristic loss for words, causing him to laugh.

“You were incapacitated,” he explains, “don’t look at me like that. I’ve carried everyone else in this pack around.”

“ ‘s true!” Wildfire interjects from behind the commander, probably enjoying a bit too much whiskey and the company of some female Enu.

“You won’t be carrying me tonight, that’s for sure!” you finally stammer, still nursing your second glass. You were polite enough to follow tradition, or make it look like you were doing so.

“Good. I’d rather not have a repeat of last night,” Wolffe scoffs.  _ Lie, lie, absolute liar, you’ve known her for less than two days and you would love to carry her around again, wouldn’t you. _

Warthog cast Wolffe a knowing look.

“Now if you could do me a favor and explain to Commander Avari that I cannot return her feelings, I’d appreciate it. Especially if it’s done before my next drink.”

You roll your eyes, but fulfill the commander’s request anyway.

He watched your mouth move the entire time, tracking the different syllables of the Enu language as the light of the fire caused your face to glow (even in the aftermath of a hangover).

Maybe he would request that General Plo keep the communications officer around after all.


	3. Bakura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakura seemed like a dream - a planet without droids. In reality, it was your worst nightmare, a constant downpour soaking you to your bones with less than welcoming leaders.

The Outer Rim. Wild Space. 

Bakura.

The only livable planet in the entire Bakura system.

One with no place for droids.

Some say Commander Wolffe considers it heaven. 

You politely disagree with that statement.

“We’ve got three more valley villages to deliver to before we can stop,” the Wolfpack leader barks, eyes watching his crew carefully.

You had tried to keep up, but the combination of steep incline and mud made it hard. The rain that soaks you through your bones doesn’t help either.

“Commander,” you shout over the downpour, skidding to a halt behind him.

“Yes, Officer?”

In the rain, Wolffe looms over you, the cybernetic eye more menacing than when you caught him by surprise during the load-in on Coruscant. 

He’s not having a good day.

“I think I need to have the first contact with the village leader this time —“

The Commander cuts you off, eyes narrowing. “I thought you said —“

“You told him you were a puppy,” you shouted over the rain, “and that’s why he tried to order you around.”

“Wolffe. I told him my name. That’s all I said, I didn’t say puppy!” 

“There’s [Wolffe] and [puppy] - it’s literally translated as small wolf, since they have wild dogs and wolves,” you sigh, exasperated. “Just let me do my job, sir.”

The 104th Battalion was continuing their relief efforts after the Enu people on Deylerax and the diverse planet Caraam. General Plo Koon determined that they should continue helping planets within the Republic while they still had the help of their Communications Officer after their success on Deylerax. According to the general, it seemed she fit right in with the rest of the pack, so why bother sending her back to work on Coruscant? They loaded up right away, making haste for their next stop - a planet with no place for droids, even just visiting ones. 

General Plo just happened to forget the part where it was constantly raining.

  
  


Commander Wolffe rolls his eyes and gestures for you to take the lead.

“Lead the way, Officer.”

And you do. 

The downpour causes your hair to stick to your forehead and the back of your neck, while your greys stick to your skin. To say you were uncomfortable would be an understatement. Ponchos would have been a waste in this weather - you’d been soaked within a minute outside the transport.

The people of Bakura - more specifically, the Kurtzen - had a more guttural language than you were used to. You kept a datapad for this - you had to write down a few notes in order to make sure you get your messages translated correctly. You’d noticed in the last village that each seemed to have their own dialect, like an accent of sort in the way they’d said certain words. You wondered, briefly, if that was noted somewhere in your books back on Coruscant - you couldn’t remember if you’d learn that from a Kurtzen somewhere in your travels, or if it was completely new information.

As you approached the path to the village, Commander Wolffe behind you, Boost and the others raced to keep up. They were managing the supply crates, but it was hard with the mud and rain of Bakura.

“I can’t wait to feel dry again!” Boost shouts over comms, nearly slipping as you turn to watch him.

You shook your head before facing the village, entering their gate with determination as thunder clapped above you.

“We’ve got four more tribes to help before we can even consider leaving,” Warthog said, shifting his grip on a crate. “Meaning there’s a lot more work to do in a lot more rain.”

You couldn’t hear the rest of the exchange, finally seeing who was designated as the tribal leader standing under the overhang of the largest hut in the village. You could hear whispers of broken Basic as Kurtzens began to gather - humans had started occupying Bakura quite some time ago, but many villages and the planet as a whole held traditional values very closely.

“[Hello,]” you smile, water dripping down your nose as you bow. 

The leader before you stood in a sleeveless top and shorts - you had remembered reading about their religion, about how there was a force within nature they wanted to be close to - and bowed only his head. 

“[We are here on behalf of the Republic to deliver goods and medical supplies,]” you continue, the leader’s eyes narrowing as he looks you over. “[Commander Wolffe -]” you start, making sure to emphasize the correct way to say his name in Kurtzen, “[and the members of the 104th Battalion would like to deliver these supplies to wherever you’d like them.]” It was all rehearsed and said at every village the exact same way - polite, formal, and making them know you were not the leader.

Commander Wolffe stood behind you, helmet still off. He’d learned two villages ago that they’d distrusted technology, including helmets. How ancient was their society?

“[Only you and your commander may enter,]” the leader replies, turning inside as you begin to pull your datapad out, another clap of thunder overhead. The storm seems to be getting worse.

“Commander, only the two of us are allowed inside. I don’t know what you want to tell everyone else,” you say, worry crossing your face. 

Another louder clap of thunder causes you to jump, and Wolffe hides a smirk behind his scowl. “I’ll be right behind you, then. Go ahead and get started. Looks like he’ll need some warming up if we want to get out of here before the whole place is flooded,” the commander responds, turning away from you to direct the rest of the Wolfpack.

You nod, stepping under the overhang and into the small hut where the dim glow of a fire lit the room. The leader was sitting at a desk, you notice, and there was nowhere for you to sit. It seems that this village is incredibly formal, you tell yourself, humming as he gestures for you to stand before him. 

You pull out the datapad and a stylus before approaching, hair leaving beads of water to trickle down the back of your neck.

“[Thank you for your hospitality,]” you say, though the fire next to you would not be enough to keep chills at bay.

“[I understand that you and the Commander are here on behalf of the Republic,]” the leader begins, eyes moving to Commander Wolffe as he entered the room. “[But I cannot have your people tainting the culture of my own. Leave your supply crates in the center of the village and be on your way immediately.]”

You scribble down what he says, eyebrows knotting as you process what’s been said.

You weren’t welcome.

The leader continues without missing a beat, staring directly at you. “[I know other tribes have been more welcoming than I, but know that the tribes here in Shiritakou Valley hold our traditions very closely. We cannot offer shelter. Do not return unless sanctioned by the Republic. I have already had my people corrupted by your language. I cannot lose any more.]”

Wolffe can feel the tension in the air as you write down the remainder of what the tribe leader has said. 

“Sir.. we’re going to have to get moving,” you say, looking over your notes. “The supplies need to be placed in the center of the village. I think there’s a clearing there…” As you pause to ask the leader, he gets up from the desk and leaves. You swallow the lump in your throat as a chill sneaks up your spine. “We’re not welcome here, even if delivering supplies on behalf of the Republic.”

Wolffe narrows his eyes as the leader leaves the hut. 

“We’re apparently a threat to the culture, their way of life,” you explain, trying to make sense of it all. 

“The last village we delivered supplies to gave us food and shelter, what’s so different about these -” he starts, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Remember how we had to cross a mountain with the transport, and now we’re in this valley?” you ask, finally looking up from the datapad. “They’re far more traditional here. All of them are, from what this tribe leader just said. Where are the rest of our deliveries marked for?”

Wolffe watches you carefully, noticing how you shiver as your uniform drips water onto the floor. “Pad, please,” he asks, and you hand over the device. 

The room falls into silence as he pulls up a map, the dull crackling of a fading fire the only thing besides your breathing making any coherent sound.

“Looks like we’re going to have to find cover in the transport tonight,” he says grimly, handing you the pad with the displayed map. “The remaining deliveries are marked for villages in this valley.”

You nod, placing the pad back into your bag as Wolffe replaces his helmet. 

“We’ll have to discuss protocol later, then, if they’ll all be like this,” the commander says before tuning into the Wolfpack’s comm channel. “Place all those crates in the center of the village, and --”

_ “Commander, we’re already on it. That guy you were talking to shooed us over to where he wanted them, and now he’s shooing us back the way we came,”  _ replies Wildfire, and you cringe.

“Then circle back towards the transport. The officer and I will meet you there,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

You leave the village as fast as you can, the tribe leader staring holes into your backs until you’re out of sight at the top of the hill. Boost visibly perks up once you arrive, gesturing for you to join everyone else in the transport. 

It was going to be cramped.

“We aren’t allowed back in the village,” you say, anger settling on your face. 

“We have to camp in transport tonight,” Wolffe adds, taking his helmet off. 

“I figured something like that was bound to happen once we started getting shoved along,” Warthog says, shaking his head as he removes his own helmet. Sinker follows, along with Boost and Wildfire.

“Translations also indicated that the rest of our stops here along the Shiritakou Valley are going to be met with the same kindness,” you sigh, taking perch on one of the metal crates in the back of the transport. The transport is smaller than you thought, you realize as you take off your boots, dumping the water out of them.

“We’ll have to make these deliveries fast,” Wolffe says, his back to you as he finds a place to stand. “Especially if this weather keeps up.”

As if on cue, you begin coughing. Three days of this weather would do no one any good, especially not someone who was the sole communicator between the 104th and the tribes. Boost nearly sprints over to you, eyebrows raised in concern.

“I’m fine, it was just one cough,” you smile. You hoped so, anyway, as you hide a shiver.

“We’ll stick it out in here tonight. Boost, you’re on first watch. I think our  _ dear officer  _ needs to dry out just a little bit before we move deeper into the valley,” Wolffe huffs, hiding his irritation. 

You pull your uniform jacket over your head, wringing it out before laying it over the edge of another crate. If only your gear was vaguely water-repellant. 

Thunder clapped overhead as everyone settled in for the night. You curl up on the crate you had been sitting on, pants and undershirt still soaked through. There wasn’t enough space to take the cots out, nor was the weather good to sleep outside in. 

“Get some rest,” the commander sighs, handing you a blanket and a few packs before taking the space below your crate.

You nod your thanks, tearing into the hydration pack and meal paste.

You wake up shivering the next day, the rain just as heavy.

Wolffe keeps his helmet on as you travel to the next village, thankful it hid his irritation. He notices the way you keep the now-damp blanket around your shoulders - would it be better if you had armor instead of some thin regulation uniform?

Boost grabs your elbow as you slip in the mud - you’d slept like shit if you were speaking frankly, that one night in the Kurtzen village by the city much nicer than the hard crates within the cramped transport. 

“Gotcha!” he grins, and you can feel it from under his visor. “Can’t have you wiping out on us! Just gotta get to the village, and then we can drop off the remaining crates and then we’ll be done! Onto the next one!”

You wish you were as enthusiastic as Boost, unable to pry yourself from his grip as the rain blinds you.

“Thanks Boost,” is all you can manage before you feel a hand at your back.

“Boost, help with the rest of the supplies. I’m going to go and address the village leader now so we can get out of here as soon as possible,” Wolffe barks over the sound of thunder clapping, his hand pushing you under the gate to the village. “Try not to trip, Officer.”

You look up to scowl at him but the rain makes it nearly impossible, and instead, you follow his guidance to where another similar and angry tribe leader awaits. You pull out the datapad and look at your notes - you’d scripted a message earlier in the morning to make the interaction short and sweet.

“[Hello,]” you begin, bowing your head. “[Commander Wolffe and I are here on behalf of the Republic, delivering food and medical supplies for your tribe. We do not want to intrude on your village. Please just point us in the direction you would like the supplies, and we will leave once they have been brought down.]”

Rain drips down the back of your neck and down your chest, over your nose and you are soaked as the leader stares at you. Commander Wolffe remains at your side, hoping to get the whole exchange over quickly.

“[Please place them right here. Leave immediately,]” he says, turning into the hut. “[Your kind is not welcome here.]”

“What’d he say?” Wolffe asks, turning to you.

“He wants the supplies right here, in front of the hut,” you say, shoving the pad back into your bag. 

“And…”

“And that our kind is not welcome here. We need to make this quick, sir,” you sigh, a sense of uneasiness growing as you notice the lack of Basic being whispered.

“[How dare you stand here!]” one elder shouts, exiting the hut behind you with others following.

“[Your kind is not welcome,]” another hisses, snarling.

“Uh, Commander…” you murmur, taking a step back.

“We need those crates right here. Drop them and head back to the transport!” Wolffe barks into the comms as lightning strikes in the distance.

“[The Powers do not want you here, they threaten --]”

“Leaving, we’re leaving, sir,” you stammer, tapping Wolffe’s arm as you moved away from the hut of elders.

You’re out of breath by the time you make it to the transport, mud in your boots from the hike back. Boost and Wildfire are wringing their gloves out as Warthog gets the transport off to the next landing zone, deeper in the valley’s forest. 

“I really wish this rain would let up,” you sigh, not wanting to make the mud in your boots worse by taking them off.

“I’ll contact General Plo, I don’t think he expected this kind of… resistance to our relief efforts,” the commander sighed, stepping up to the cockpit. 

“I don’t think any of us expected this,” Sinker says, removing his helmet. You nod in agreement as you sit on one of the crates.

Boost hovers nearby in the cramped space, watching you carefully as you shiver.

“Need a blanket?” he asks, but you shake your head no.

“I don’t want to get it wet, especially if we’re going back out in this,” you say, trying to think of somewhere warm and dry. “I appreciate the thought, Boost.”

Boost visibly deflates - Sinker notices and shakes his head - and fiddles with his helmet. You wring your hair out as you attempt to feel less waterlogged than you already were, an impossible task, really.

You notice they aren’t shivering like you, teeth clattering as you sit upon cold metal. You vaguely remember that their armor is temperature-regulated and that their blacks are at least slightly water-repellent, and you’re jealous. If only you had that luxury rather than the coarse and absorbent fabric that was your uniform.

After a few minutes, Wolffe emerges from the cockpit. 

“General Plo says we’re to complete our last three deliveries, and then we are back on our way to Coruscant. We’ll be approaching the next village in about thirty minutes,” he says, eyes wandering over towards your corner. “He said that only the communications officer should make contact on our last three stops.”

You stiffen, feeling the mud in your boots squish beneath your toes.  _ Gross. _

Boost tries to object, only to be shushed by Sinker. You’re not really paying attention - if you did, you’d start shivering, focusing on the rain and cold that awaits you. You play idly with a hydration pack, legs swinging over the crate. Three more villages. 

The half hour of travel allows exhaustion to seep into your bones, just like the cold and wet fabric has found home there. Your feet hurt, and the mud is starting to solidify between your toes. You shiver, trying not to think about it too much.

“It’s another hike - about a half-hour under tree cover before we can reach the village. Officer, keep to the front with me. You can make contact upon sight of the tribe population,” Wolffe says, displaying a small map on the hologram he’d programmed earlier in the cockpit. “It’s mostly medical supplies we’re dropping here, so we can move quickly.”

Moving quickly, in mud, while soaked to the bone. Great. You covered a brief coughing fit, trying to time it with a crack of thunder as Warthog landed the transport. 

Wolffe noticed.

“Let’s move so we can get on to the next one!” Comet cheers, putting his helmet back on.

You hop from your crate, your movement causing the water soaked into your uniform to spread once again. “Two more after this, yeah? We - We can do it!”

The hike through the tree cover was rough.

You decided to use a poncho in an effort to keep some of the water out of your uniform and underclothes, but it wasn’t helping. The hood had been snagged on a branch and Sinker had to rip it off before you got any more tangled in the brush.

It’s a struggle to keep up with Commander Wolffe, even when Boost offers you a stim pack. Your stomach churns at the thought of consuming one, but you take it anyway.

“You’ll be fine, chug one’a those and you’ll keep right up!” Boost laughs, guiding you away from a tree root as you swallow the pack’s contents.

The trees softened the rain falling, but every clap of thunder felt more threatening. You feel on edge - mostly thanks to the stim pack, but also because you’d be entering the village alone. You shivered under your weak plastic cover and tell yourself everything will be fine. 

Upon arrival to the village gates, you swallow down the lump in your throat and approach the waiting tribe leader. Commander Wolffe and the pack remain at the gates, holding the crates of medical supplies.

“[The storm foretold your arrival,]” the leader says, not willing to make eye contact with you. “[We will accept your offerings but know they cannot step inside our land. You are here because the powers allow you.]”

You shiver at his words, and notice a few men in the distance with spears.

“[I will be brief. Please allow the Com--]” you start, chest tightening as he holds a hand up to stop you.

“[No. Only the one who speaks will deliver. That is final.]”

Lightning strikes in the distance, making the exchange ominous. 

“[Of course, sir.]” You turn on your heel to return to the gate.

Wolffe knew something was wrong by the look on your face.

“I have to deliver the supplies myself,” you explain, shifting nervously in the mud.

“What do you mean, officer?” Wolffe snaps, “Deliver the goods yourself?”

“They won’t allow you on the land. Something about the powers that be speaking it, or whatever,” you mumble, thunder drowning you out. You take a case from Sinker and begin to walk it back to the leader, poncho flapping uselessly in the wind.

“They’re making her do this? That’s insane, she’s already exhausted from keeping up with us!” Boost objects, but Wolffe holds him back.

“You know better than to make things worse. They’ve greeted us with spears and everything! Imagine what happens if one of us steps into this gate,” the commander hisses, grabbing Boost’s chest plate.

You manage the work just fine - the leader of this tribe seems to enjoy watching you do the work of a small group on your own. You stack the crates in front of the hut, one by one - the entire process takes most of an hour, but all ten crates are stacked neatly. Boost watches you nervously as you bow and exit the gates, not daring to look back even once.

Wolffe is tense as you stumble slightly, mud causing you to slip and land right in Boost’s arms. 

“Let’s go. We can make one more stop today,” he says, turning on his heel and leading the hike back to the transport where Warthog waited.

The way back was worse - the rain became heavier under the tree cover and you were feeling less than stellar.

“Are you sure you’re gonna make it?” Boost asks, a tentative arm around your waist. 

You nod in response. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Let’s just make this other drop so we can get out of here tomorrow.”

Wolffe grinds his teeth as the lead of the pack, a string of curses flying from under his breath. No one hears - he’s muted himself on the comms - but he’s pissed. He can feel the exhaustion settling in, but he’s built to withstand it, built to power through.

The stim pack from earlier makes you feel anxious as you perch atop another crate. Your face burned hot as Warthog lifted off, another twenty minutes of travel before reaching your destination.

“This one’s only a five-minute walk from the drop zone,” Wolffe says, holding out a hydration pack for you.

“I can manage, sir,” you respond, taking the pack. 

Boost makes a strangled sort of noise from the back of the transport, and Wolffe rolls his eyes in response. (You see the cybernetic one move under the visor, which makes you laugh just a bit. Unfortunately, your laugh turns into a cough, and you spill some of the hydration pack.)

“Sir, we should really make camp and worry about these last two stops in the morning,” Boost objects, shaking his head as the commander approaches him.

“I think you need to remember that we are all fine here, Boost,” Wolffe hisses, irritation evident in his voice, “and know that we’re not that far out from these last few stops. Let’s just do this so we can get off this miserable planet.”

Boost is silent - no witty remark comes from him as you fall into a coughing fit.

“ ‘m fine!” you groan, finishing the hydration pack off and concealing your shaking hands. “Promise.”

The trooper gestures and Wolffe rolls his eyes, walking off.

You carry a crate in under the gates as an offering, placing it at the feet of the tribe leader as the rain turns cold. 

“[I come with medical supplies from the Republic,]” you start, covering your mouth to cough, “[we wish to deliver these here and leave as soon as possible as to not disturb you and your people.]”

The leader sneers and you swallow thickly - something feels off, as your head spins and you wonder if you’ve had too much stim lately. You’d chugged another as the transport landed, hoping you’d power through this last hike and exchange with ease.

“[We accept these offerings. Your men may deliver them, but you must immediately leave. We cannot shelter you - the powers forbid it.]” 

As you turn and wave the Wolfpack in, your vision goes fuzzy and you stumble slightly.

The leader practically cackles as he watches you hit the ground. Boost and Wolffe immediately drop the crates, rushing to your side as the rest of the pack manages the supplies.

“[This is what happens when your kind is here,]” the leader comments, turning on his heels as others begin to load the supplies into the hut.

“Shit, shit!” Boost shouts over the rain, cradling your head as Wolffe scoops you up. 

“Go!” Wolffe roars, adjusting you in his arms as he switches comm channels, “Warthog, we’ve got a medical issue. Our officer just fainted - start the transport and set up a cot. We’ve got enough room now that the cases are out.”

_ “Copy that, sir.” _

The commander all but snarls as he sprints out of the village - how could he have been so  _ stupid _ to think that you could keep up with them? A pack of clones, genetically engineered to last through hell and high water - of course they could keep going, they were made to do so! He grinds his teeth as he makes it out of the tree cover, seeing the rest of the pack adjust the contents of the transport so that the cot had enough room.

There’s a nasty gash on your forehead, Wolffe notices, and he hopes it doesn’t leave a scar as he sets you down. Warthog starts up the transport and they’re moving towards their final stop, three hours worth of travel ahead of them.

The commander rips off his helmet as Sinker opens up the medkit, scanning your vitals with a handheld reader. Your temperature reads as a fever and he curses, Wolffe running a hand through his hair.

Suddenly, you sit up in a panic, gasping for air. You look around the transport, chest heaving as Wolffe tries to get your attention.

“Hey, hey! Officer! You’re okay, you’re okay,” he says, kneeling at the side of the cot as Sinker applies a bacta patch to your forehead. “You passed out on us down in the village, but we’ve got you. You’re okay.”

You blink, confused. You had just been speaking to the leader of the village. How did you end up in the transport?

“Commander?” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as the room spins. Your head hurts like hell, and you close your eyes in the hopes that it would all stop.

“Lay down, you - you’ve got a fever.”

Boost, on the other side of the transport, throws his helmet in frustration. 

“Lay down, okay?” Sinker pleads as Wolffe storms over to the redhead.

You nod, room spinning when you open your eyes to see what was happening. “ ‘kay,” you murmur, sleep taking you far faster than anticipated.

“This is your fault, Commander,” Boost hisses between clenched teeth, “if you hadn’t been so adamant on making this third stop today after that fuckin’ asshole made her do the drop herself -”

“Do not make me court marshal you,” Wolffe snarls, baring his teeth as he circled the trooper. “I will not deal with your attitude right now, Boost.”

Boost grunts and snatches his helmet from the floor as Sinker approaches.

“She’s got a fever, a bad one at that. I don’t think we have any other clothes, but she needs to get out of that uniform,” he explains, carding a hand through his hair. “Most likely has a concussion too. Pupils weren’t evenly dilated when she sat up. I saw how she hit the ground...:”

“Whatever it is, do it,” Wolffe muttered, looking over at the cot. “We’ll finish the drop on our own.”

The final village was about five hours from the last point, and Warthog charged on ahead with his orders.

“General Plo needs to know what happened,” Boost spits, unfolding a second cot to put it beside yours.

Your uniform was discarded, boots removed and tossed aside with a trail of mud following them. Sinker had been polite when wrestling you out of the wet uniform, piling a stack of blankets on top of you for both modesty and warmth. If you stayed in them any longer… the wolfpack didn’t want to think about it.

Beads of sweat gathered on your forehead as you tried to sleep, chills taking you. Boost wipes the sweat away with a clean cloth, lips together in a thin line. Anxiety paints his face as you twitch - were you having a nightmare?

Commander Wolffe chews the inside of his cheek as he watches Boost sit with you, nostrils flaring in annoyance. He’d put you in this mess himself - he should be the one comforting you. 

“Boost, get some rest. I’ll take watch,” he says, moving towards your cot. 

Boost eyes the commander and takes another, folded cot with him to the other end of the transport.

Tension fills the room and Wolffe sighs, head bowed. 

“I won’t let this happen again,” he whispers, brushing the sweat-soaked strands of hair away from your face. “Promise.”


	4. Bakura: Final Drop

Five hours came and went. 

Commander Wolffe had to remind himself you weren’t like them - that you’d need a bacta patch change in a few hours to clear up the nasty gash on your forehead, and that your fever wouldn’t burn out in another hour. It made him nervous. He did this - he put you at risk by pushing through the conditions at a high pace.

“We’ve approached the landing zone,” Warthog says over the comms as the transport lands.

Boost had been able to rest, along with Wildfire, Comet, and Sinker. Wolffe was a whole other story, sipping on a stim pack as he watched over you. He noticed how exhausted you looked asleep, how you looked like you were having a nightmare, shivering...

Your breathing had a bit of a wheeze to it, he noticed too, and it took everything in his power not to haul ass off the planet.

Warthog lands the transport and the rest of the pack takes off - the final village is about a ten minute hike from the landing zone. The pack takes off, Wolffe practically storming away from the transport. Boost is not far behind, ready to pick a fight with his commander.

It’s a solid eight minutes thirty seconds into the hike - two minutes from their destination in the downpour - when the silence is broken.

(Comet was keeping a timer, but he wasn’t going to admit that.)

“This is all your fault, you know,” Boost hisses over the comms, “if you’d realized she was sick we wouldn’t be here!”

“I can’t help that I figured she could pull through with us,” Wolffe snaps back, eye twitching in irritation. “She said herself she was fine earlier!”

“You couldn’t see she was clearly lying? Fuck, she’s not some genetically modified clone made to follow orders like us, Wolffe.”

“General Plo and Commander Tano keep up just fi—“ 

“They’re FUCKING JEDI, ASSHOLE!”

Wolffe - mere feet away from the village gate - tosses down his crates. Boost follows, drawing the attention of the tribe. 

“Remember how I said I was gonna court marshall your ass?” the commander sneers, “Maybe instead I’ll discipline you myself.”

“Discipline me? Maybe you should consider that yourself after you realize you could have gotten her killed -” Boost squares up, ready to throw a punch.

“Uh, guys…” Sinker interjects, getting between the two of them. “This is a bit dramatic, she didn’t die -”

“Not yet,” Boost cuts in, thunder cracking loudly overhead.

“We have a job to do,” Comet adds, gesturing to the angry crowd gathering at the gate to the village, “and it looks like we’re going to have a bit of trouble finishing it at this rate.”

“What?!” Wolffe and Boost say in unison, heads snapping towards the gathered crowd.

A guard seems to have formed with them, bows and blades at the ready. The rain and thunder cover the murmurs and whispers passing through the group, eyes narrowed and looking between the almost brawl and the boxes of supplies.

“Commander, I think we need to say something…” Sinker says, though hesitantly.

There’s a beat - an unsaid “ _ but what, our communications officer is down?” _ \- before who they assume is the village leader claps their hands together. 

“[Leave now. We do not want your troubles. We have no fear of you and your men here. We do not need whatever you are trying to bring us,]” they explain, but…

“What did he say?” Wolffe asks, momentarily forgetting his issue with Boost. 

Wildfire shrugs.

Boost is cursing under his helmet - muted on the comm channels - and kicks over a crate, knocking the lid loose. The movement reveals the medical supplies, which causes more murmuring among the tribe. The leader ushers a member of the guard to a crate, who immediately carries it over. He then gestures for the remaining members of the pack to drop their crates.

“Lower your crates and step away, I think,” Sinker says, gesturing for Wildfire to drop the crate in front of him. He does, and they are shooed away from the crates. 

“Commander Wolffe,” Warthog interjects over the comms, “have you completed the drop? She’s started burning up.”

Wolffe snaps back into his role - he moves away from the crates, taking Boost by the arm and hauling the trooper away. “We leave now. We can leave the crates where they are, as that’s what their leader has requested. Now let’s get back to base.” He grinds his teeth under his helmet, lightning striking nearby. 

On the transport, Warthog sighs as he looks after you. You’d started tossing and turning moments after everyone had left with the cargo, sweat gathering on your forehead, Your face is flushed, and you’re warm to the touch. Too warm, really, for his liking - and so he decides to call it in to the commander - and the general. 

The hike back is in complete silence again - no one dares to say anything, not even Boost as he’s hauled through roots and brush. They’re all thinking about you - and how they wanted to get off this lousy, rainy, miserable planet.

General Plo Koon was disappointed to hear from Warthog that the conditions on the planet had brought distress to the group. He admitted he hadn’t intended for things to go this way - for one, he expected Commander Wolffe to be a bit more mindful about your presence rather than rushing through things.

The entire transport back to the waiting cruiser - and the following jump to lightspeed for arrival back at Coruscant - is also in complete silence.

Wolffe is the one who helps the med droid escort you to the sickbay. Boost follows behind, along with the majority of the Wolfpack. They’re visibly worried for you - distraught over how warm you’d gotten during the trip back to the ship. 

Were you awake, it’d be almost endearing. 

Instead, you were barely there, clinging to Wolffe and Boost’s hands after they’d moved you to a gurney. 

“Exhaustion, fever, exposure to the elements…” the droid reports out from the datapad, buzzing in concern. “It’s a good thing you’re reporting back to Coruscant. She won’t be able to go back out until she’s fully recovered from this mission.”

Wolffe removes his helmet, jaw set anxiously.

He’d let one of his own get sick.

  
  


“She’ll be fine,” Sinker says, shaking his head as he passes through the sickbay.

Wolffe and Boost had decided to take up residence at your bedside - opposite each other, of course - without even bothering to hit the refresher or the racks. Both of them want to apologize to you, to make sure they didn’t mean to put you in this situation, to exhaust you and get you sick. 

Maybe they were apologizing for (and to) themselves instead.

Clones - their brothers - didn’t really  _ get _ sick. Not like this. It was something new for them to experience, to deal with the side effects of not being modified to work for days on end without issue, no matter the condition.

The transfer to the sickbay at Coruscant is relatively easy. You’d already started to cool down, only briefly, before your fever flared up again. Your bacta patch is being changed as General Plo walks in, arms behind his back.

“It was really that rainy, Commander?” he asks, a tone of curiosity in his voice.

“Ye - Yes sir,” Wolffe quickly answers, looking rather ashamed. 

“I’ll be sure to add that as a note to our files about the planet Bakura,” the Jedi hums. “She’ll pull through. She’s one of ours now.”

You stir, machines beeping around you. Your head feels as if it’s splitting, and you tentatively reach up to find a bacta patch. 

That makes sense.

It’s then when the panic settles in, and you sit upright.

“Commander Wolffe?” you murmur, squinting. Someone’s at your bedside - Boost, you finally recognize, though he looks rather dejected. “Boost. Boost?” You fall into a fit of coughs and there’s a hand at your back.

“ ‘s alright, you’re okay now,” Boost says, “an’ we’re off that bloody planet.” 

“I - I was talking to that leader? There was mud in my boots…” On instinct, you wiggle your toes under the itchy blanket. You look as if you’re processing something when a realization hits you. “Wait, no. We were on the transport. We still had another drop to make. What happened? They needed those medical supplies!”

“Took care o’that without you. Managed just fine on our own, I’d like to think.” His hand finds its way into your hair - the back of your neck is wet from sweat but the movement is calming, bringing you out of the panic from waking up in the middle of the sickbay back to the  _ pack _ . “Had a nice welcoming party and everything once we made it to the village.”

“Please tell me no one attempted to--” you groan, hand going to your forehead. The sickbay lights were bright, almost too bright, and you feel Boost’s hand slip from your hair. 

“Don’t worry, Officer. We all knew you were the only person to talk, so we didn’t. Not to the tribe members, anyway. I - I should go, signal the med droid an’ finally clean myself up,” Boost stammers - you watch as he scrambles away, stubble coming in dark along his jawline. “Commander Wolffe was looking forward to seeing you once you woke up. I’d prepare yourself for that.”

You wave, stunned as Boost walks off, mumbling something under his breath. Wolffe actually wanted to see you? To what, say that because you’re sick, he’s replacing you? You shook your head as a med droid approached, talking about concussions and the upper respiratory infection you’re dealing with. No, that didn’t seem right. Boost looked like he had been worried about you since you’d passed out on Bakura. He sounded relieved that you were awake, that you only were dealing with something that can get fixed rather quickly than something long-term. 

You ran the possibilities through your head as you were allowed to take a brief trip to the refresher - your first one in nearly six days. It feels wonderful, clearing your head as you finally get all the mud out from under your nails and give your hair a good, solid wash. It was warm, though only as warm as the sickbay would allow it to be, and you feel more human as you’re ushered back to your bed. 

Commander Wolffe was doing everything in his power to keep his mind off you and the guilt of pushing you too far. It’s why he runs right into Boost as he’s getting to the racks, jaw set and a determined look on his face.

“I see you’ve finally decided to return,” Wolffe says, “wasn’t sure if you wanted me to court marshal you for that too.”

Boost rolls his eyes as he shoves his strips out of his blacks. “Sleeping Beauty’s awake, y’know. Wouldn’t hurt to give her a visit.” He doesn’t say that you asked for the commander as he slams the locker closed.

“Seems we’ve got feelings for the officer, huh?” Wolffe rolls his eyes, but the pit in his stomach wants to consume him. He  _ does _ want to see you… but he’s ashamed.

“Feelings? Sure, I joke that she’s my wife an’ all that, but she’s  _ one of us now.” _

There’s a beat, and between the silence, Warthog’s snoring echoes through the room. Boost shakes his head and shoves past the commander, muttering under his breath.

Given your concussion, you weren’t to be allowed a datapad for at least a few days. It was annoying, as you wanted to get back to reading and fulfilling your officer duties as soon as possible. It would be something to distract you from the miserable fever you were dealing with. You stare at the ceiling, bored, until you manage to fall asleep again. The med droid had loaded you with liquids and a few anti-cough medications, so it was easy once you managed to lay comfortably. 

When you wake up from your nap, you find Commander Wolffe at your bedside.

“Commander --” you gasp, scrambling to sit up straight. 

“Easy, officer.” His voice is softer than usual, and the look of worry in his eyes causes you to recline against the pillow. “ ‘m glad to see you’re doing better.”

You clear your throat and shrug. “I guess, though it looks like my fever will break soon. I heard you wanted to talk to me?”

He looks away for a moment, staring at the datapad with your vitals on it. “Somethin’ like that, yeah. I just wanted to -”

“Listen, sir, if you’re going to reprimand anyone for what happened on Bakura, it should be me.”

He looks at you, surprised as you cover a cough. “That’s… not what I was going to say. Where did you get that idea? The medicine they’re feeding you? Did they change your bacta patch alright?”

You laugh, watching as the commander softens in front of you. You pull your knees to your chest as he moves the chair closer.

“I just wanted to apologize for forgetting how you’re not like us. You work so hard, an’ you do your job so well, I just didn’t think that --” He starts, helmet in his hands.

You lean your head on your knees, smiling softly as you cut him off. “I accept your apology, Commander Wolffe.”

He stares at you, unblinking as he notices how much better you look out of the soggy uniform. 

“It’s just as much of my own fault, you know. I was the one who said I was fine,” you add, which prompts an eye roll from the commander. “I quite like working with the Wolfpack, anyway.”

Commander Wolffe feels as if he could burst into a thousand pieces at that very phrase, but instead he stands up, replacing his helmet. (Underneath, his face burns hot and he can finally smile, knowing you don’t  _ actually _ hate him.)

“Now if you’ll excuse me sir, I’ve got some more napping to do before they’ll let me out of here,” you laugh, though it quickly turns into a coughing fit.

Wolffe tells himself not to worry, that you’re in good hands now that you’re off the blasted planet as he leaves the sickbay. He also reminds himself that you’re one of them now, even if everyone else has been saying it all along.

  
  


You wake up the next morning with a meal tray from the mess hall waiting for you. 

A nurse smiles as she notices the tray, dosing out your medicine before checking your bacta patch.

“Seems like the 104th really likes you,” she says, raising an eyebrow at you. “The redhead one was arguing with the commander over who should deliver it. You should have seen them.”

You laugh - of course Boost and Wolffe would get into it over delivering a tray of food to someone who was, at the time, asleep.

“I’m just happy to work with them,” is all you say on the matter, as you try to ignore the warmth blossoming in your chest.

The nurse gives you a knowing look as she signs off on the datapad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest starring in this installment of Tranlsation Error is my own upper respiratory infection! Woohoo! I got myself some meds today and finally felt clear enough to work on this. Hope you all enjoy the closure to the mission of Bakura! (and thank you for all the love as you read, it means a LOT to me and I just turn into a mushey keysmash when I read your comments.)


	5. Revival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been discharged, you’re off your meds, and the boys want to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm about halfway through season 6 of Clone Wars and I desperately needed to write some fluff after the episodes I've watched today. Thanks for all the love and support!!!!!

It takes another twenty-four hours for your fever to break. The nurse finally frees you from the sickbay then, sending you off with a prescription and a smaller bacta patch for the healing gash on your forehead.

Boost and Sinker escort you back to the barracks, where they reveal you’ve got an official spot with them, within the 104th’s racks. You had been hiking back and forth before the Bakura mission to the officer barracks, but it seems that General Plo Koon has officially designated you as a member of the team.

They’d even moved your personal belongings for you.

“Welcome back, Officer,” Boost grins, gesturing to the small room you’d been given. 

You grin back, and Sinker waves you on. Comet and Warthog crowd the door of your room - it’s a generous space, door lined up right next to Commander Wolffe’s and in the same hall as General Plo Koon. There’s a desk, a closet with a mirror - you noticed they hung up your civilian clothes for you - and a brand new tech set waiting for you.

“Per the General,” Boost says, “now y’don’t have to run back and forth to those officer racks. You’re really, truly one of us now.” He’s preening, knowing you’ll be with them for the brief moment of forever you have in the war, and it’s more like home than Kamino and the racks have ever felt.

“And -- ?” you ask, holding up a folded set of blacks that were placed on your bed.

“And those, too,” Sinker nods, a smirk crossing his face. 

“Hang on, I’m gonna --” you say, pulling off your standard-issue uniform top.

Boost makes a choked sort of noise and scrambles out the door, the rest of the pack following him. 

You bounce on your feet, excited over the new outfit. The message on your datapad from General Plo says you’ve been given permission to wear these, given what had happened on Bakura. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a brief moment, heart threatening to burst out of your chest. You haven’t felt this way since you graduated from the Academy, being moved from assignment to assignment. Now you have somewhere you belong.

You leap out of your room, hair askew from pulling the top over your head as you run down the hall to where the rest of the boys were waiting.

“We can match now!” You giggle, spinning around. It matched their regulation blacks, top and bottom very fitting, but yours had an extra motif printed onto the shoulder - a wolf, much like the one on the commander’s shoulders.

Boost sets his jaw in an attempt not to stare at you as he looks up. Wildfire, resting against his bunk, sets his helmet to send a transmission to Commander Wolffe. There’s an unintelligible noise that comes from the helmet, but the trooper just covers his laugh.

“Y’look good, officer,” Sinker smiles, and you pose. 

“I’m feelin’ good, guys,” you reply.

You settle into your new home quickly, the blacks far more comfortable than those ugly greys you’d been so used to wearing. 

There’s a few messages passed around between the pack, mostly from the commander - you’re oblivious to them, the conversations held on private comm channels.

_ “Where did those come from?!” “Who allowed this?” “Why the hell did you send that when I was in a fucking meeting with General Plo --” _

The Commander seems a bit on edge with you around, carefully tip-toeing around your presence. 

It takes another two days for the meds to completely kick your upper respiratory infection to the curb, and the boys do whatever they can to help - even if you don’t need it.

“Thanks guys,” you smile one night after dinner. 

The group was on leave until you were cleared for work, and according to your check-up earlier, you’d be ready for action in another three days of rest.

“Can’t let our dear officer get lost now, can we?” Boost laughs, an arm around your shoulder.

“Listen!” you laugh, poking him in the chest. “I’m so used to going to the officer’s racks, not where we are now!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sinker laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“Let’s make sure you know where you’re going. I don’t think the commander will help you if you happen to get lost with him,” Boost snorts, glancing over his shoulder at Wolffe at the back of the group.

The commander rolls his eyes, shaking his head in disgust.

There’s a lot of shouting coming from the bathroom that evening as you carefully poke your head into the shared space that same night.

_ “Can somebody help me dye my hair again?” _

_ “Boost do you even have any dye on hand?” _

_ “Should I get another tattoo?” _

_ “I think we should get the officer’s name tattooed somewhere—“ _

_ “What, like on our asses? We know you like your ass tattoos, Wildfire, but not all of us do.” _

You barely manage to choke back laughter before you realize Wildfire’s ass tattoos - the wolf insignia on  _ both _ cheeks - are clearly in your line of sight. You sputter and clutch your towel, stumbling backwards.

Wildfire turns around at the sound and screams.

They’d forgotten that you living with them included you sharing the bathroom space.

“Th’fuck’s goin’ on in here?” Wolffe grumbles, walking right into you.

“W-We are  _ so _ sorry, sir!” Boost mumbles, scrambling to cover himself. 

Wolffe looks down and realizes the person he walked into was  _ you _ and  _ not one of the guys. _ Immediately, he drops his towel to his waist - clearly they didn’t mind wandering around the racks naked - and clears his throat. “Officer.”

“I”ll come back later…” you manage, raising an eyebrow as you sidestep out of the doorway. Your mind wanders for a moment to a very inappropriate thought about the  _ goodies _ of the guys and you scold yourself.

Not before trying to steal a peek at the commander’s ass.

(He does the same, watching as you run down the hall in your blacks.)

  
  


“I am officially off my medication!” you cheer, jumping around the racks. “Been given the all clear to go enjoy myself, according to the nurse.”

Boost and Wildfire exchange a look with each other and grin. It’s been nearly a week since you’d made it back from Bakura, five days since you’d been discharged, and you’ve finally been given the okay to live life normally. The Wolfpack has been waiting not-so-patiently for this moment.

“This means we can take you out tonight!” the redhead smirks, arms crossed over his chest. “Our treat.”

“No, no - you don’t have to do that,” you object, putting your hands up.

“Yes, we do. We wanna celebrate you comin’ back 100%!” Boost says, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “And the fact that you’re officially one of us now. You, me, the rest of the pack at 79s. Maybe the 501st will join us as well to help keep the Commander entertained.”

“Okay, fine,” you resign, “seeing as I won’t be getting you to say no.”

Boost grins mischievously as you putter off towards your room. 

He isn’t the only one who has  _ plans _ at this rate.

If they want you to go out, then you’ll _ go out. _

A smile crosses your face as you look through your closet. It’s hard to choose - your party dresses have served you well before, but now? They’ll serve an even greater purpose. You’re sure the boys expect you to wear your blacks - after all, you’ve hardly been out of them over the past few days. They’re so comfortable, but you can party in them at a later date. The night is to be a celebration - why not celebrate in style?

You step out of your room and the Wolfpack falls silent. They were waiting for you in the hallway, leaning against the wall so that you could all leave in a group - they didn’t want you to get  _ lost _ going to a bar you know you’ve visited a few too many times, but they didn’t know that. 

“Ready?” you smile, the lights in the hallway causing your dress to sparkle.

Boost shakes his head, blinking a few times before realizing that you were real and definitely wearing a fitted white sequin dress. Wildfire’s jaw is on the floor and Sinker is nervously running a hand through his hair.

“What, the party’s out of you already? We haven’t even left yet!” you object, hand on your hip. Boost follows the movement and realizes you have  _ legs _ and your shoes seem to sparkle like your dress. 

“Wh - When did you get that? how?” he stammers, the door to the Commander’s room opening behind him.

“It was in my closet? The one that you guys moved here for me?” you smirk, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve had this one since my Academy days. Probably my favorite.”

Commander Wolffe turns and gives you a look-over before sighing deeply.

_ You partied?  _ Boost mouths and you wink in return, following the commander out.

  
  


79s is full to the brim with officers and troopers. Boost ushers you in, practically carrying you to the bar through the crowd.

You laugh, feeling warm and  _ happy _ as he places you on the bar top. 

You’re sparkling in the colored lights - your dress shines and sparkles with every movement as you find a comfortable position on your new throne. The boys can hardly keep their eyes off you as they crowd around, excited to celebrate your official clean bill of health and your status as a member of the 104th.

“Now how ‘bout a round of drinks?” Boost asks as he waves over the bartender, leaning next to you.

You swing your legs as you watch the boys order drinks, swaying to the pulsing beat being blasted throughout the bar. 

“I wasn’t aware they served snacks here,” an unfamiliar voice shouts over the music. 

You turn, seeing 501st blue and a face with a 5 tattooed on it.

Before you can even reply, Boost is placing a hand on your thigh, practically snarling.

“Fuck off, Fives.”

“Boost! Didn’t realize -“

Sinker, passing out drinks from the bartender, notices the ARC Trooper. “She’s ours, Fives. Go find an officer of your own. There’s plenty of other ones here.”

“Right, right. If you want to get away from your guard dogs, give me a wave!” Fives smirks, winking at you before returning to the crowd. 

“Bastard,” Boost hisses, promptly removing his hand from your thigh. 

You laugh, cupping his chin to have him look at you. “Let’s just have fun tonight, yeah?” Boost melts into your touch and tells the bartender to let you have whatever you want for the night. “It’s all on the Commander’s tab anyway!” He laughs, watching as you order a flight of shots for the group.

Across the bar, Commander Wolffe is hidden in a booth far from view. 

“Brooding again?” Captain Rex asks as he slides in. 

Wolffe rolls his eyes, finishing off his third drink. “Just laying low.”

As Rex waves over a waitress, he shakes his head. “Please do not tell me you’re still moping over that Bakura mission.”

Wolffe just stares at the blonde, deadpan and definitely ignoring the statement.

“So that’s how we’re gonna be tonight, huh?” Rex laughs - the commander clearly has it  _ bad _ . “Well, may as well get drunk over it. Seems like everyone’s catching feelings over blasted communications officers. Echo got one to write her name on his gear and he inked it in. I swear, next he’ll get it tattooed and it’ll all be over from there… listen. All she did was catch a cold —“

“It was worse than that, Rex,” Wolffe interjects, almost pouting as a waitress appears. 

“Whatever, she’s fine now. Not your fault,” Rex shakes his head before turning to order. “A round of Bespin Speeder Bombs and … probably a bottle of fire whiskey. It’s gonna be a long night.”

Wolffe raises an eyebrow - an entire bottle?

You’re giggling as Boost helps you from the bar top, using napkins to wipe your legs off. An officer had come up to order a drink - which he promptly spilled over your legs after seeing you. 

“ ‘m fine, ‘m fine, Boost,” you say, trying to make sure your shoes don’t end up as sticky as the bar floor. 

“The pride and joy of the 104th should not have drinks spilled on her!” Boost chirps, slurring his words. 

You pat his chest plate as you finally feel comfortable enough to stop wasting cocktail napkins. “Easy, it’s just an accident.”

“Yeah but —“

“No buts, Boost. I don’t want anyone to get in trouble tonight. We’re supposed to be celebrating!” You exclaim, giving him a  _ look _ . He quickly reaches and pulls Sinker by the back of his collar, away from pursuing the officer who has spilled his drink. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile, and Boost feels like he’s falling in love all over again. You sparkle in the light as Sinker hands you another drink, looking almost angelic to the pack around you. “Where’s the Commander?”

Boost snorts and rolls his eyes. “He’s prolly sittin’ in his booth in th’back, whining to Capt’n Rex about how he  _ hates _ relief duty.”

“So they’re just commiserating together?” you ask, taking a sip from your drink. “I heard that Captain Rex is quite the drinker, though…”

“From who?” Sinker asks, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“I’ve got a few Academy friends who work with the 501st on their transport. You’ll never believe some of the stories I heard while they were on leave,” you smile.

“Did she say friends? She has friends?” Comet is suddenly shoving himself between Sinker and Warthog, an excited, almost puppy-dog look on his face. “You have friends?”

“Yes, I have friends,” you laugh, which causes nearly the entire group to perk up. “Maybe if you’re all good boys, I’ll introduce them to you sometime?”

Sinker looks as if he could kiss you - despite Boost’s protests from your other side - and you pat his cheek. In the middle of the floor at 79’s, it looks more like a  _ puppy pack _ than a wolfpack surrounding you.

You laugh, wiggling your way out of their grasp as you spot the back-corner group of booths. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go make sure our  _ dear commander _ still has a pulse,” you call out, waving as the boys start to talk excitedly amongst themselves about the opportunity to meet more pretty women like you.

“There she is, Rex,” Wolffe sighs, leaning on the palm of his hand. His other points at you as you manage to wind your way towards the booths, though he’s too drunk to realize you’re coming for him.

“She’s quite the looker,” Rex whistles, topping off the commander’s glass. Their bottle was nearly empty, and both of them were going to have one hell of a morning at this rate.

“She’s so  _ smart _ ,” the commander continues, “and she’s so good with her mouth.”

The blonde nearly chokes as he’s finishing his own glass off, sputtering as he wipes the drink away. “And you happen to know this how?”

“So many languages, she knows so much and she speaks them all so well…” Wolffe sighs, tossing back the contents of the glass. 

“Ah, that’s what you meant,” Rex grumbles, shaking his head. 

“She lives with us now, an’ I nearly knocked her over when she was standing outside the bathrooms…” he continues, gesturing for his glass to be refilled. “She has a set o’blacks like us, an’ it’s like she was  _ made _ to wear them an’-”

“I think you’ve got it bad, Wolffe. I mean, I would too.”

“Look’it her dress, Rex, y’shoulda seen her when I had to carry her back on Deylerax, killed the bottle of Enu whiskey on account of the local tradition. I wish I could do tha’ again.”

Rex follows Wolffe’s finger as you finally make your way to their booth.

“Shit,” both curse under their breath as you wave and smile at them.

“Seems like quite the party back here!” You laugh, noticing the almost empty bottle and shot glasses littering the table. “Glad to see you’ve both got a pulse still. I was worried I’d have to haul you out of here myself, Commander.”

“You migh’ have to,” Rex says under his breath before offering a smile. “I see you’ve made quite an impression on Commander Wolffe, officer.”

“Have I?” You ask, and Wolffe dodges your eye contact. “I just do my job to the best of my ability, sir.”

Rex pats the space in the booth next to him as he moves over closer towards Wolffe. “Join us, yeah?”

And you do, sliding in next to the captain.

Wolffe straightens up slightly and you mask a giggle by taking a sip of your drink. He looks very drunk - and from what you’d heard from Sinker, it took a lot to get him that far. You try and total up the bottle and the number of shot glasses, but Rex is waving down a waitress before you can get a good number.

“Round of Kamikaze’s, please!” he grins as she clears the table, skipping off to fill the order at the bar.

“You didn’t have to do that, Captain Rex,” you say, shaking your head. “But thank you.”

“Please, drop the title. Just Rex here, yeah?” he smiles, moving a little closer to you in the booth. Wolffe stiffens at the movement, and while you’re distracted by some of the holos the captain is showing you, he’s giving a knowing look to the commander.

“So you’re telling me General Skywalker --” you laugh, leaning back into the booth. You’re pleasantly buzzed, though nowhere near where you had been on Deylerax as you’re now squished between Wolffe and Rex. The commander had moved after he wanted to show  _ you _ some of his favorite holos he’d saved, though he skipped through a few you were curious about. 

(One of them was you, dancing around the racks in your blacks the day you first got them.)

“Yes, General Skywalker has baby-talked to droids,” Rex finishes nudging your side.

“Prolly the only language he can manage,” Wolffe grumbles, trying not to get too close to you. He’s practically staring at the way you glow in the dim light, sparkles on your dress reflecting light all around. It’s  _ distracting _ and for a moment he’s glad you’ve only worn greys out on missions. Anything else and it’d be a disaster for sure.

You click your tongue and toss back the rest of your drink. “Languages are hard! I can’t tell you how impossible some of the exams at the Academy were!” You sigh in exasperation, shaking your head. “So many dialects, the differences between written and verbal.. Augh!”

Wolffe smiles, only faintly, at your exasperation. It’s cute, he thinks, the way your lips curve up when you’re not really mad. Just like how your dimples dig into your cheeks when you smile, and the way your tongue just barely pokes out between your lips when you’re trying to think. It’s the closest he’s been to you in days, and it’s more intoxicating than all the liquor in the galaxy.

“Commander Wolffe?” you say, waving your hand in front of his face. “You there?”

Rex chuckles behind his fist as an ARC trooper in 501st blue approaches the table.

“Uh, sir --” he starts, and you recognize he’s not the one from earlier. “Fives seems to have gotten into a fight with an officer downstairs…”

The blonde groans with a full-on eye roll before wiggling out of the booth. “ ‘s my cue. Can’t have  _ one night _ without Fives fuckin’ fightin’ someone. G’night, Wolffe. Get ‘m out, Echo, before he decides to fight someone else. G’bye, Officer - get back t’base safely.” He winks as he leaves enough credits to cover the tab  _ and _ tip on the table, a growl coming from Wolffe next to you.

“Easy, sir,” you laugh, and he just turns to you for a moment, wide-eyed. “How ‘bout we head back too, yeah? Last call’s soon anyway.” 

Wolffe ignores you, waving down the waitress to hand off the credits - and order another round for the two of you.

“ ‘m sorry,” he says quietly enough that you almost miss it.

“No, no, we’re not - I already thought I told you that it wasn’t your fault!” you sigh, noticing how Wolffe looks more like a kicked puppy now that he’s alone with you.

“So much smarter than a droid,” he mumbles, “ an’ prettier.”

“You’re just a softie, aren’t you,” you murmur as the last round of drinks is delivered. You take both, well before Wolffe can grab one himself, and down them in just a few gulps. He watches you in awe as if he had finally accepted that you are the love of his (very drunk) life. “Let’s go back to the racks, Commander.” 

You manage to pull yourself out of the booth, flagging down Boost and the others for some assistance with the Commander.

“Okay, let’s go [puppy],” you giggle, calling Wolffe by his mispronounced name from back on Bakura. He follows, clumsily, and you reach a hand out for stability. He’s preening as he takes it, and you laugh. “Listen, I can’t carry you.”

The rest of the pack surrounds you, all in various states of  _ disaster. _ You sigh, shaking your head.

“Okay boys, let’s go back home,” you smile as Sinker helps you support Wolffe. Boost is on your other side, taking your other hand. It’s endearing, really, how much they all love you as you manage to shove into a cab. 

You realize as you pull Boost and Wolffe from the cab upon return to the base that you might love them too.


	6. Interlude

Making your way back into the barracks with two incredibly drunk clones is much harder than you anticipated. 

Boost is begging to hold your hand as you try and pull your commander out of the cab. Wolffe looks rather soft in the moment as Sinker pays for the ride, but then he’s suddenly cold when you’re trying to usher him down the hallway.

“Hey, hey - Commander, you can’t -” you sigh, letting go of Boost’s hand as you chase down Wolffe as he puts distance between you two. “C’mon, y’big lug, take my hand. You look like you’re going to fall over any minute now. Kriff, how much did you and the captain drink?”

Wolffe reluctantly takes your hand as you lead him down towards the barracks, his hand warm and calloused against your own. “ ‘m sorry…” he mumbles and you pull him back towards you as he tries to fall back. 

“I said it earlier, we’re not doing this. You have nothing to be sorry about, sir,” you smile, patting his arm with your other hand. 

He stops dead in his tracks at what you say, causing you to stumble in your heels and Boost to nearly run into him, Sinker on his arm. 

“Oh, no, _no_ , we’re not doing this now, Commander Wolffe. We are not!” you object, tugging him along. He looks at you, eyes wide before following along. 

It’s quite the sight, the Wolfpack being led back to the barracks by a communications officer in a sparkly dress.

You finally make it to the 104th’s barracks and you brace yourself for what’s to come. Wolffe is struggling to stand upright - he’s leaning on you now, barely able to open the door before you swat his hand away. You smash your code into the keypad and shift the commander against you so that you’re tugging him by the hand once again. Boost and Sinker are right behind you, with Sinker attempting to keep Boost from taking your free hand. 

“ ‘s my wife,” he slurs, and you shake your head. Wolffe seems to smile at your reaction before the trooper continues to mumble. “Goo’night my wife.”

“Kriff, Boost, we’re not there yet,” you hear his handler grumble, grunting as he shoves the trooper along the dimly lit hallway.

“Gar an haryc b’aalyc,” you mumble, rolling your eyes as you reach the commander’s door. _You’re all drunk._ You tap your chin as you figure out how you’re going to get him not only into his bed without a fight, but also how the kriff you’re going to manage the armor part of all of this. It wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in it, you figured. 

When you turn to have Wolffe key into his room, you’re met with a mix of reactions.

Sinker and Comet snicker from behind you while Boost and Wolffe had stopped and are now staring at you wide-eyed.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“ _Alor._ ” Officer. Wolffe is the first to speak - his wide-eye look has changed into something else, something you can’t read. 

Wildfire, in the back of the group, speaks up before the commander can say anything else. “We ‘eard that!” 

“She’s right though,” Warthog sighs, trying to keep a hold on the trooper’s arm as he attempts to wiggle his way to the front. “Why are we surprised?” The pilot is probably the soberest of the group, next to Sinker. Your buzz is coming in waves - probably why your thoughts were starting to jumble themselves.

“Smart wife,” Boost grins, as if he had hearts in his eyes. 

“Mirdala alor,” Wolffe corrects. _Clever officer_. 

“Well, I think it’s about lights out for everyone,” you stammer, caught off guard by the way he seems to be praising you. “Commander, can you open your door for me? Let’s get you ready for tomorrow.”

Boost pushes past you, Sinker hauling him along to where the bunks were further down the hall. He’s waving, lovestruck, before he blows a kiss to you. “G’night!!” he calls, though when you focus on getting the Commander settled, he frowns. “But my kiss…”

“Your wife is a bit busy at the moment, buddy,” Sinker sighs, “I’d give up at this point.”

“She’s so smart,” the redhead sighs dreamily, ignoring what was said as he flops face-first onto the bunk, armor and all.

The door to the commander’s chambers opens on the first try - probably because this is the _normal_ level of drunk for him - and you shove him through the door.

“I’m sure you’ve got some hidden hydra packs in here somewhere…” you mutter, thinking back to the ones he gifted you back on Deylerax. It was your first time seeing the inside of his living space, and you had no clue where to start. (Not like you wanted to be digging around the commander’s personal belongings in the first place.) But before you can even think of the first spot to look, Wolffe has pried himself away from you and is opening a small container in the closet.

“Sir?” you say, blinking. 

“Packs,” he mumbles back, taking out the same homebrew ones you remember from your first mission.

“Oh, good. Now let’s sit you down and -” you start, trying to guide him to the bed to sit. He’s resistant, and instead stares at you, gaze sweeping from the floor to the top of your head. You clear your throat. “Sir.”

The gruff exterior falls away for a brief moment, the corner of his lips turning upwards into a smile as the corner of his eyes wrinkle. It’s gone, though, the moment you start to open your mouth again. Wolffe grunts and trods his way over to the bed, sitting down and patiently offering out a pack to you.

“Thank you, but I -”

“Officer.”

“Commander Wolffe, you need to -”

“ _Alor._ ” 

You freeze, taking a deep breath. “Yes, sir?”

“Take it.” He’s looking at you, scarred brow raised and you wonder for a moment what it’d feel like. 

“Yes, sir.” You oblige, taking the pack as your fingers brush during the exchange.

Wolffe softens again, eyes narrowing as he attempts to open the pack and consume the contents.

At least he wasn’t apologizing. This was closer to normal, you note, as he sucks the pack dry and you smile. 

“I think you’ll be okay, right Commander?” you ask, gesturing towards the door. It was getting late, and you wanted to sleep before even thinking about your next assignment.

Wordlessly, he holds out his left arm, looking at you with an expectant expression.

“Do - What, you need help?” You’re confused - you’d never seen how to take off armor or put it on. Maybe you’d seen it briefly, as the boys got dressed on the transport, but not in detail. Where are the straps? Is there a specific order to take things off? You stare at him, hesitant before you move towards the door. “I could go ask Sinker…”

Wolffe shakes his head - Sinker was busy trying to take care of the rest of the group in the bunks, so even _if_ you called out to him, it’d do you no good.

“Fine, fine, but -” you say, moving across from the bed to where the desk is, leaning on it, “I’m takin’ my shoes off before we do anything else.”

The commander blinks at you, scarred eyebrow raised as you unbuckle the strap on your heels. The shoes had become rather sticky after that officer at 79’s had spilled a drink over you, much to your dismay. You toss the sparkly shoes off, barefoot on the cool ground before trodding to where your commander sits.

“Ke te'habiröbe ner de beskar’gam.” _Remove my armor._

You nod, face feeling hot at the _command_ given - you chalk it up to the liquor finally catching up with you, but there’s something about Commander Wolffe speaking Mando’a that you can’t quite place.

A smirk crosses his lips now as you stare at the arm he’s still holding out to you, trying to figure out how to get the bracer off with ease. Nothing seems to come to mind until you finally find the small release snap - it’s barely visible, on the inside of the forearm and you wedge your fingers underneath. It pops off with ease, and you sigh, placing it on the bed next to him.

“Knew y’could figure it ou’,” Wolffe smiles, speaking in Basic as you grunt in response.

“Can’t manage it yourself, huh?” you ask, letting a little attitude slip as you work on the shoulder and upper arm pieces.

“Nothin’ better than a pre’y _alor_ takin’ it off,” the commander grins, face rather close to yours as you move to the right arm’s compad. 

“Commander, I think you’re a bit more drunk than you realize,” you comment, shaking your head as you wiggle the piece free while managing to not press any buttons on the device. “Can’t believe this is _normal_ for you, by the looks of how you an’ Rex were drinking.”

Wolffe simply watches you, eyes roaming from your nimble hands working to pry off the shoulder pad, to your arms as the dress sparkled in the dim light of his room, to your lips as you speak. 

“C’mon, I need - I’m just gonna reach real quick…” you mumble, trying to work at the clasps for the chest plate before you manage to get it free and over his head. 

The process to remove the commander’s armor is long, and while Wolffe is drunk, you’re sure he could have managed the work by himself. You finally get him down to his blacks after the last thigh piece - the tension was palpable as you were removing some of the lower armor - and sigh in relief. It feels like forever, and now you could finally sleep.

“That’s that,” you sigh, standing from your spot on the floor and turning to get your shoes you had abandoned. “And if you’ll excuse me, Commander, I’m off to bed.”

You turn on your heels as Wolffe stands up to get another pack from the bin he had taken them from earlier, waving you off as you stepped through the door and towards your space. 

As the door closes behind you, the sound of armor clattering to the floor causes you to jump - he had knocked it all onto the floor as soon as you left, laying face-first in his bed in just his blacks.

The 104th Attack Battalion’s barracks are uncharacteristically quiet when you wake up. Your head throbs a little at the light you accidentally left on, but you manage to pull yourself out of your bed before it became too late and you were too comfortable.

It seems as if the troopers were still sound asleep - the night out must have done a number on them, as it was the first in months according to Comet.

You run a hand over your face before realizing you desperately needed to hit the refresher, hair wild as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. At least at this rate, from the silence coming from outside, the bathroom would be empty.

Or, so you thought, as you padded through the hall, towel in hand and empty hydration pack between your teeth, until you hear someone groaning. As you round the corner, you’re met with Commander Wolffe at the sinks, looking a little worse for wear.

“Good morning, _sunshine_ ,” you chirp, smiling brightly as you return the greeting he had given you back on Deylerax after your participation in the local tradition. “I see you’re up early, sir.”

The commander squints at you, glaring through the mirror’s reflection. His hair sticks up slightly in the back and you bite back a smile, moving behind him towards the row of showers.

“Might want to refresh your stock of hydration packs,” you say before stepping into a stall, humming to yourself.

“ ‘m not gonna ask how y’know that, officer,” Wolffe grumbles, shaking his head. He turns to splash his face in cold water as he hears the shower start. What _had_ happened last night? How did you know he needed hydration packs? The commander rubs his good eye with a groan, trying to remember what had happened between drinking with Rex in the booth at 79’s last night and this morning when he woke up to his armor scattered across the floor. 

Silence falls between the two of you for few minutes save for the sound of running water, the hallway outside empty before Wolffe turns off the faucet, wiping his hands off.

“There’s a briefing on Arkania scheduled for later today,” he says, clearing his throat. His gaze wanders towards the row of stalls for a moment before he looks back into the mirror, staring at himself. “I expect your attendance, Officer.”

The sudden break in silence causes you to jump, your shampoo clattering to the floor.

“Of course, Commander Wolffe,” you respond, bending to pick up the bottle. 

The commander rolls his eyes as he returns to his room, hand at his temple. Something in the pit of his stomach feels off - beyond the hangover he was going to be nursing for the rest of the day. He can’t place his finger on what, exactly, but he knows there’s a little sliver of relief tucked away among the uneasiness.

_At least you were no droid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I haven't responded to comments! I've been keeping them unread/unreplied to because I just love hearing your feedback so so so SO much. I'm SO happy everyone seems to be enjoying the ride that is Translation Error, I can't even really put it into words. Thank you :3


	7. NYSS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buildings made of ice. Near-freezing temperatures. Perfect conditions for the recently immigrated population of Ensos. Not quite ideal for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are again! as always, your feedback and love is deeply appreciated and really makes me feel good about what i put out here for y’all. i’ve been in my feelings today about wolffe today so this also turned out a little longer than expected (even for something that’s going to be a two parter! yikes!)

“You’re being rerouted to Nyss,” General Plo Koon explains, hands clasped behind his back. “It seems our issues with the Arkanians have been settled within the Senate and they will be receiving the funding they need to repair their medical facilities.”

You blink, looking down at the datapad in front of you, skimming the information about Nyss. You knew that the Arkanian representatives were rather… loud, to put it lightly. It would make sense that they would get what they wanted so quickly. 

But Nyss? Last you knew, it was completely desolate, a land of ice and snow, not somewhere that needed a relief effort to visit.

“Nyss has recently received a settlement of Ensos, and they are having trouble getting the groundwork laid for their new colony.” 

The General continues to explain the point of your journey into the cold - detailing how many supplies you’ll be delivering, and how the 104th will be assisting in the creation of a medical center within their village. 

You scroll through the rest of the data on Ensos - their language, Ensolican, was one you’d have to refresh yourself on. Syntactically, it was a bit different than many head-initial languages used throughout the galaxy - Ensolican was head-final, where the subject appeared at the end of the sentence. While you read, you accidentally tune out of the conversation - not out of disrespect, but because you’re so focused on making sure you’ll be prepared to work as the mouthpiece for the 104th. 

“Officer? You’re dismissed,” Wolffe calls out, waving a hand in front of you.

General Plo covers a chuckle, moving to peer at the map of the tundra that is Nyss.

“Oh, right, Commander. General.” You nod, clutching the pad and backing away from the center console. 

“Remember to pack your heaviest coat, Officer!” the General calls out, turning to talk to Commander Wolffe.

You can’t make out their conversation - you’re too far out of earshot by the time they begin talking - but you wonder if they’re discussing your performance after the Bakura incident.

You quickly return to the barracks, keying into your room in order to dig out your heaviest parka. You hope it’s still somewhere among your things after the move from the officer’s building - you weren’t really paying attention for a heavy coat when you had looked through your closet earlier.

Commander Wolffe, after speaking to the general, felt his face burn hot. It was unnatural, really - and the conversation hadn’t even been that embarrassing. 

Really, the general had said nothing but praise for the way you had worked with the battalion, from his observations, and that he was impressed with your recovery. Your time with the 104th had been extended beyond the original discussion - “until further notice.”

Hopefully Wolffe could handle living with you next door “until further notice.”

The rest of the crew is briefed - you note that you can hear Boost’s whining from behind your door - about the mission’s changes and the departure time.

“0400 standard,” Boost groans, running a hand over one strip of red hair. “ ‘m not even awake yet  _ today _ , forget tomorrow!”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you pack your warmest clothing. Perhaps your greys would be useful as a layer of clothing in the tundra environment, so you tuck an extra pair away. You were only slightly jealous of the clones having their own helmets to keep them warm - that was a much better option compared to your little fur-lined hood.

The 104th Battalion drags their feet after being briefed, many still hungover from the escapades from the night before. Commander Wolffe is definitely among them, head throbbing as he hears Boost complain repeatedly. At least they would have the remainder of the day to prepare before their early departure.

Commander Wolffe’s request for you to remove his armor last night played over and over again in your head as you tried to focus on a review of Ensolian. It was a deep sign of trust - or so you figured, given the way you’d feel if he had helped you undress. Not that you would, but you compared the two situations in your mind. 

It was intimate, personal.

Not something that should happen between a commander and his officer.

You groan in frustration, but then there’s a bang at the door that causes you to bolt upright.

The door slides open, revealing the commander holding his helmet under his arm.

“Callin’ lights out now, officer,” he says, trying to keep his eyes on you rather than prying around at your surroundings. “We need to be in the hangar for 0300. Departure an hour later. I assume you’re packed?”

You were really the only member of the group to need to pack - shame crept up the back of your neck and you nod in affirmation. “Yes sir. Won’t have a repeat of Bakura this time.”

“Glad to hear it,” Wolffe says, though he sounds as if he’s… strangled? The commander stops making eye contact and nods, no longer wanting to invade your space.

“Goodnight, sir,” you smile, waving slightly before sighing deeply. 

Hopefully you’d all survive the cold.

It takes about two and a half days worth of travel to get from Coruscant to Nyss. In that time, Commander Wolffe makes himself scarce - he seems to be avoidant of you, which delighted Boost. You find yourself becoming more comfortable with him, and opened up about way more than you expected. Favorite foods, favorite languages - Sinker commented that it seemed more like Boost was trying to get you to share so he can date you proper, but you just laughed it off.

“Besides, I thought that I was already his wife?” you laughed, all bright eyes and smiles.

Sinker snickered at Boost, whose face seemed to grow as red has his hair. A passing Commander Wolffe rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disgust.

Upon coming into the planet’s orbit, you realize how depressing Nyss looks.

“This might be as miserable as Bakura,” you mutter on the bridge, sighing. You’re not the biggest fan of cold weather - tropical locations are more your speed, admittedly, but you couldn’t quite hand-pick locations for relief missions.

Sinker, nearby, nods in agreement before he turns to go towards the hangar.

You can already feel how cold it is, mid-air and trying to remain balanced against a crate on the transport. Boost offers you a thumbs up as Warthog guides the transport through the clouds, a storm brewing in the atmosphere. 

“We’ll spend today offloading the supplies, and tomorrow we should be able to set up the medical facility with ease,” Commander Wolffe notes, “though this weather pattern seems unexpected. I think we can beat it.”

“I sure hope so, Commander,” you reply, shaking your head. Otherwise, you’ll be crawling into someone’s armor to keep warm.

The snow is crunchy under your boots, but the wind bites at your face as you struggle to keep your hood up. You’d probably give almost anything to have a helmet keeping your face out of the elements at this rate, especially if there’s a possibility of a storm coming.

“Alright, Officer - you’re the first contact with these Enso people. Make sure to ask nicely for somewhere to stay tonight, since the transport has to return to the main ship,” Wolffe shouts over the comms, “Boost, don’t say anythin’ stupid.”

“Last time that was you, Commander.  _ You _ called yourself a puppy, not Boost!” you shout back, gloved hands keeping the hood around your face. You feel like the layer of blacks under your standard-issue greys was not enough, your face already feeling raw from the wind. As you turn and look for any sign of the Ensos, you realize you’re staring at their architecture already - architecture of  _ ice _ . 

A pit forms in your stomach as you remember the  _ very _ specific line of data on the report that identified the Ensos as a race with much lower body temperatures than others throughout the galaxy.

Someone exits from one of the crystalline structures in what looks like  _ summer wear on Tatooine _ and you nearly slip upon the realization. 

“Careful, officer!” Boost says, grabbing your elbow as you flail. 

The Enso representative nearly laughs as you straighten up. “[Welcome, friends of the Republic!]”

“[Thank you. We are the 104th - your relief effort team for the next day or so!]” you explain, waving an arm behind you.

“[You may be here for more than a day, my friends. A storm is coming. But nevermind that! Let’s get you inside with those supplies. This way!]” she smiles, gesturing for you to follow.

“Oh, great, they knew about the storm,” you grumble, causing the comm lines to ripple in your ear with similar groans.

“We’ll deal with it if it happens,” Wolffe groans, taking one of the crates. “Let’s move in before we lose the officer to the snowbanks.”

You huff, stomping a path through the snow to the icy structure. 

_ “An entire building made of ice?”  _

_ “This is absolutely nuts, how did they manage this?” _

_ “I didn’t know this kind of building was structurally possible!” _

_ “It’s so shiny!” _

_ “Yes, Wildfire, we can see it’s shiny. It’s ice.” _

Whispers pass back and forth as you follow the contact wordlessly through the passage, moving deeper into what was clearly an icy fortress. 

“Remember that the Ensos have a much lower body temperature,” you whisper, allowing your hood to fall back slightly. Your cheeks and nose felt raw from those few minutes out in the open, the skin dry. Maybe upon your return you’ll ask General Plo Koon for a specially commissioned helmet…

_ Thunk. _

You realize you’ve slipped too late, landing flat on your ass. You twist your face in a mix of humiliation, disgust, and slight pain as your contact turns around. Commander Wolffe moves quickly from behind his container, offering a hand to help you up.

“Next time, be more graceful. Try not to fall,” he says, watching carefully as you stand up again. There’s a look of concern under his visor that you can’t see as he watches you walk again, making a note to check in on you later.

“[You must be careful, my friend. All of our architecture is made from ice,]” the Enso contact smiles, patting your hand once you catch up to her. You ignore the chuckling in your ear coming from the pack - which is quieted by Wolffe faster than you anticipated - and continue on down the winding hallway.

“[I’ve noticed,]” you say through clenched teeth, a few whispers of concern coming from the back of the pack.

You pass by doors made of ice, intricately carved, and you note even the handles are made from ice, notched so that they could grab and turn to open the door. It’s the details you end up focusing on as you try and ignore what is definitely going to be bruised tomorrow, thankful you didn’t hit your head on the container Commander Wolffe was escorting behind you.

“[We will be setting up the medical facility down this hallway, please follow me to drop off the containers of supplies,]” the contact explains, gesturing down the hall before continuing.

“Any updates, officer?” Wolffe asks, peering down the hallway.

“We’re going to drop the containers down where the facility is going to be set up tomorrow, sir,” you translate, gesturing for the group to follow her. A chill shakes you and you visibly shiver. “Can our next planet be warm?”

“I don’t think we get a say, officer,” the commander replies, “maybe next time, wear more layers.”

You look up at Wolffe, eyes narrowed before throwing your hands up in exasperation. 

Your body felt as if it was both throbbing and freezing at the same time, and you didn’t want to think about how cold it could possibly get within the icy structure. As you watch the group stack the crates in what looked like a recently built room, you hop from one foot to another, trying to create more movement and warmth.

“[Thank you, friends,]” the contact smiles. 

“[I don’t mean to intrude, but is there anywhere we would be able to stay for the night? Our transport had to return to the main ship due to the winds…]” you explain, finally breaching the subject of lodging. You watch as your breath appears before you and you try not to think about it too much, thinking of somewhere warm - perhaps with multiple suns.

“[Of course! You may make use of this room for the remainder of your stay until it has been converted into a medical facility,]” she explains, gesturing around to the empty room. “[I apologize, but we only build rooms to suit what we need. We do not have any guest areas for you to occupy, so please forgive our lack of attention and lodging for you. If there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to seek me out. I am simply down the hall, take a left, another left, and then I am the third door.]”

Your smile falters slightly as you watch the contact leave - even realizing that she had not given her name, but it was too late for any other introductions.

“Well…” Wolffe asks, breaking the silence. “Something just happened an’ I don’t like it.”

“These are our lodgings,” you say, turning as you wrap your arms around yourself. 

“Oh, lovely,” the commander groans, removing his helmet.

The rest of the pack followed with a chorus of groans. It was relatively warmer this deep into the ice, but it was still cold. Definitely not ideal to be sleeping in, but you would have to manage. 

“Looks like we’ll all have to sleep together!” Boost chirps, excited at the prospect of a massive pile of clones and... You.

“Boost, what the fu--” Commander Wolffe snaps, eyes narrowing at the redhead.

“I mean, logically, he makes sense,” you say, quickly stopping whatever tirade the Commander was going to go on. “We’ll create more body heat that way, and stay warmer…” It’s a batshit crazy plan, really, but it’s one that’s going to keep you all alive.

“It’s not like we haven’t slept together in the past…” Boost says, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, maybe not the officer, but we have as a pack…”

“He’s got a point. What difference does it make if we add in one more person?” Sinker comments, placing his helmet on one of the containers.

Wolffe opens and closes his mouth, trying to determine if he should strangle the two clones or  _ thank _ them for the opportunity to get closer to you.

“You all know that I don’t snore,” you add, hoping to make light of the situation.

“Fine, fine.” Wolffe resigns quickly and rubs at his forehead. What did he just agree to?

The Wolfpack settles in for the night as the sun falls, temperatures dropping only slightly in the core of the ice fortress. You still see your breath as you talk, which unnerves you slightly, but you’re doing the best you can in the dim light of the room. Even through your paste meal, you make the best of the situation as you can.

“I’m glad I managed to pack extra blankets into the containers,” you say, prying the lid off a container to pull them out. “I was hoping we wouldn’t need them, but given Bakura…”

Wolffe grunts in response while Boost jumps up to help you. “Good planning, officer!” he grins, taking the stack of blankets from your hands.

“I dunno if there’s a specific way everyone wants to sleep tonight, but, I don’t think the few cots we’ve got will help. I think --”

“Spreading the blankets out on the floor to create a barrier between the ice will help?” Sinker cuts you off, eyebrow raised as he watches you unfold a blanket that’s definitely longer than you are tall. 

“Yeah. I can’t really think of anything else, unfortunately,” you admit, ducking your head slightly.

“I think it’s a good plan.” Sinker smiles at you as you move, Boost helping to arrange some of the containers. “Don’t you agree, Commander?”

Wolffe nods, trying not to look like he’s paying attention as you move around as he looks at the datapad in his hands. “Sure, whatever.”

You roll your eyes as you begin laying out the blankets, creating a layer between the ice and where you’d be laying - obviously, leaving enough blankets to cover yourself and the rest of the group when they piled in.

“I think I’m going to turn in now - no point staying up and staring at  _ ice _ ,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Try not to squish me whenever you all decide to finally sleep.” Folding up your jacket, you slip an extra pair of socks on before crawling under the mountain of blankets.

Perhaps you packed  _ too many _ blankets - but then again, you were about to sleep in an entire structure made of ice.

Eventually, the 104th turned in for the night, shucking off their armor for a more comfortable sleep under the blankets. (They also didn’t want to have  _ you _ get pinched by any of the pieces or feel uncomfortable in your layers of greys and blacks.)

You’d fallen asleep quickly, ignoring their conversations and movement in the room. Wolffe only wished he could fall asleep like that as he’s ushered to sleep on your right side. To your left is everyone else, Boost being the closest followed by Sinker. 

“If anyone tries anything funny -” the commander hisses between his teeth, gesturing down to you, “I  _ will _ court-marshall your ass.”

“She’s one of us, why would we?” Sinker whispers, shaking his head. “Relax, Commander. It’ll just be like on Lola Sayu! You just keep her warm, yeah?”

Wolffe rolls his eyes before laying down on his back, tucking his arm under his head. 

“Just like Lola Sayu…” he mumbles, rolling his eyes again before catching you stir in the corner of his good eye, shifting your makeshift pillow. “This is nothing like that blasted planet.”

Wolffe means that in the best way possible as Boost begins to snore.

  
  
  
  
  



	8. NYSS: Ice and Snow

The room is cold, the temperature dropping as the night progresses. You try and stay asleep, but… something feels wrong as if there’s been a complete shift in the galaxy.

Someone is squirming next to you, murmuring as you try and yank some of the blanket back from their grip. You assume it’s Boost, given the heart eyes he’s been making since you returned from 79’s the other night. While the makeshift bed is warm, the naturally cold temperature of the room causes you to shift as your skin meets the air. You tug a bit harder, finally getting them to release some of the blankets, but not without an elbow to the ribs. You turn, face-down in your pillow now as you sigh, finally falling back into a deeper sleep. 

Then there’s the screaming.

You bolt up out of fear, worried the worst has suddenly happened on this seemingly peaceful - but icy - planet.

It’s then when you realize it’s  _ Commander Wolffe _ , clawing at his face, over his right eye, as he screams and thrashes.

“Commander Wolffe?” 

“I - I can’t see!” he shouts, chest heaving. 

Boost stirs beside you as you try and grab one of the commander’s hands. Wolffe shoves you off, face twisting in fear as he folds over, shaking. Boost catches you before shaking Sinker awake next to him.

“Commander?” you repeat, and he’s not listening, consumed by the panic. You move to straddle him, taking both cheeks in his hands as he finally makes eye contact with you. “Wolffe, Wolffe! You’re okay!” Your breath is visible as you repeat his name over and over again, trying to stop the commander from clawing out the cybernetic eye or hurting himself further. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes - you don’t know how he lost his eye, but clearly he’s still suffering because of it. “Look at me, you’re safe, you can see. Just keep looking at me...”

Everyone else is awake now, too, and the air is thick with tension.

It’s been quite some time since Commander Wolffe has had such a nightmare.

“Wolffe…” you whisper, wiping the sweat from his brow with your hand. You gently avoid his scar, not wanting to trigger him any worse than he already is. The skin is raw from his blunt nails, and you bite your cheek to stop your own panic.

The commander moves his hands up to yours, trying to mask that they’re shaking as he pushes your hands off. His face is warped, strained and mixed with embarrassment. 

You weren’t meant to see this side of him.

He hates the way he sees the fear in your eyes, the concern visible as you move off him, sitting back up at his side.

The other members of the Wolfpack exchange a knowing look - the planet’s temperature wasn’t “just like” Lola Sayu’s… it was also just like the planet  _ Khorm _ , where Commander Wolffe lost his eye to Asajj Ventress.

You don’t know that, though, as you look over at Boost and Sinker, blinking the tears back. The redhead pats your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you as Sinker slides back under the blanket.

The only thing left to do now is to wait it out, watching as the commander’s breathing slowly returns back to normal. 

Eventually, your own breathing does too, as you pull the blanket up over your head in an attempt to hide the fact that you could no longer hold your tears back.

Wolffe feels you shake beside him as he adjusts one of the blankets, guilt gnawing at him from the inside. 

You weren’t supposed to see that side of him.

_ Ever _ .

What were you going to think of him now? Commander Wolffe struggles with his thoughts, unable to fall asleep for what seems like hours. Was working together going to be that much harder? Were you going to avoid him? He was supposed to be some battle-hardened clone commander… not some  _ weakling  _ who struggled with nightmares.

The sun managed to break through the icy structure, making the room far brighter than you anticipated. The influx of light causes you to stir, rubbing at your eyes as you manage to wake up. 

It’s then that you realize that the makeshift bed is mostly empty and that everyone is chattering around you as they make quick work of the containers.

“S-Sorry,” you mutter, sitting upright.

Boost chuckles as he helps you up, smoothing back the wild bedhead you’d managed to acquire overnight.

“Y’looked like you needed the rest,” the trooper smiles, handing you a paste packet. “Not sure why you’d ever be the one apologizing, anyway.”

Commander Wolffe, you note, is speaking to Sinker in the corner of the room. He watches your interaction for a moment before turning back to the sergeant. 

“Didn’t realize it was that late, really,” you shrug, moving to fold the blankets up. “Looks like whatever storm was coming passed, though!”

“I know, can’t believe it’s so bright in here. I can’t imagine how deep we are in the ice!” Wildfire says as he moves a container along. “It’s so pretty…”

You laugh, shaking your head before tearing into the packet Boost had given you. 

Sinker sighs as he watches his commander shift uncomfortably.

“I… didn’t think she’d ever see me like this. I didn’t think --” 

“Commander, you’re overthinking things, I know this is the first time someone outside the pack and General Plo seeing you like this, but…”

“Should I explain to her what happened? Apologize? Kriff, this isn’t how I wanted things to go, not with  _ her _ .” His voice wavers uncharacteristically as the commander wrings his hands. It’s a panic in regards to the work relationship you two have,  _ and  _ the bubbling feelings inside his chest that the commander keeps shoving back down.

“I’m sure everything’s fine with the officer.” Sinker is trying to be the voice of reason - they’d been on a good streak, really, before last night. It seems that the cold triggers the nightmares, though - he’ll have to inform General Plo about that new development, maybe have the next few missions somewhere warm...

“I can’t unsee the way she looked at me, Sinker. I - I only came back because I felt her hands on my face and --” Wolffe runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. He wants to close his eyes, but then he’ll just see you there, eyes wide and tearful. 

“An’ it’s alright, Wolffe. Look at her, yeah?” The sergeant offers a smile, although weak, as he gestures to you. “She trusts you. I don’t think -”

“You don’t think an  _ episode _ will change things between us?” Wolffe hisses, cutting Sinker off. His eyes narrow as he looks over at you, heart thrumming in his chest. 

You look… normal, as you help Boost unpack one of the crates. The room is slowly turning into a medical facility, and yet the group’s commander is off dealing with an  _ episode hangover. _

It’s not a good feeling, Wolffe notes, his mouth feeling dry as he sighs once again.

Maybe Sinker is right. Maybe letting you in isn’t a bad idea.

You laugh as Wildfire tries to explain how he feels about the ice structures through some unwieldy metaphor, rolling your eyes as you turn back to Boost. The two of you are working on unpacking and organizing medical supplies to help furnish some of the stations that would be created out of the other containers.

“I wonder where our contact is?” you ask, gesturing towards the door. 

“Why don’t you go look?” Boost counters, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, no, I’m good. I’d rather not have a repeat of yesterday’s… incident.” You grimace, as your backside is relatively sore from where you landed. You’re sure there’s a bruise there, but you’re not about to strip out of your layers to check a bruise on your ass, much to the dismay of Boost and many of the other Wolfpack members.

“Is that so, Officer?” Commander Wolffe startles you, standing directly behind you.

“I - I just wouldn’t want to suffer another fall by myself out there,” you manage, talking more with the supplies in your hand than your mouth. You notice the commander looks exhausted, most likely from the events of last night, and worry settles into your brow.

“Then how about an escort? Come with me, Officer.” Wolffe stares down at you for a moment, hesitating before gesturing for you to follow.

And you do.

You notice that the commander is keeping a slower pace than usual through the icy hallways, even despite the tension between you.

“Commander, I --” you start, reaching for his wrist brace. 

Wolffe stops at your words, turning to you and reaching for your shoulder.

There’s a beat, and then, suddenly --

_ “Are you okay?” _

Both of you ask at the same time, causing you to blink in confusion. Wolffe’s mouth hangs open for a moment, and it’s just the two of you alone in the winding, icy hallways.

“I’m fine, sir, but you? How can I help you?” you ask, dumbfounded. Was he worrying about  _ you _ after last night? Why?

“I didn’t mean t’scare you,” Wolffe says, voice just barely above a whisper. His eyes dart away from your face as he sighs, shaking his head. “I - I didn’t think it could happen again, and as your commanding officer, I--”

Your shoulders drop at Wolffe’s words, and you reach for his face again, cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Commander, look at me,” you sigh, despite the fact that your heart is ready to burst from your chest, “I’m fine. I’m worried about  _ you _ .”

Wolffe knots his brow, eyes darting across your face. “You’re not scared?”

“Pardon my language sir, but why the  _ fuck  _ would I be scared?” 

Your language gets a rise out of the commander, who laughs for a moment as he pulls your hands from his face. 

“Your face last night, I saw  _ fear _ in your eyes,” Wolffe says reluctantly, “fear that I cannot stop picturing.”

Wolffe sounds distant, causing you to shake your head.

“I was afraid for you, I was afraid I couldn’t help you,” you explain, leaning against the cold wall of the hallway. “I - I didn’t know that -”

“That I lost my eye to Asajj Ventress?” He cuts off, causing you to gasp.

“No, sir...” Your stomach twists at the admission and you chew on the inside of your cheek. 

“Now you do,” he admits, swallowing thickly.

Silence falls between you, seconds ticking away as you stare up at the commander’s scar, noticing the shape and pull of the skin as you follow it from his cheekbone to his temple. 

“When?” you murmur, not wanting to push further than he’d be willing to share.

But before Wolffe can answer, you’re joined by the contact you’d been looking for.

“[Friends! Good news! The medical facility is nearly complete!]” she calls out, grinning. “[Please, follow me!]”

“Commander, it seems everyone’s finished with the supplies,” you say, gesturing towards the contact. You move to follow your contact before slipping on the ice, stumbling over your feet. Wolffe grabs your elbow, keeping you from the floor, and chuckles.

“Looks like you needed an escort after all,” he says, shaking his head as he helps you through the hall. 

Wolffe’s hand doesn’t leave your arm until you approach the makeshift medical facility, the contact leaving your skin buzzing.

“She’s saying we’re all set,” you translate, watching as clones finish unpacking the last of the supplies. 

“Looks like we’ll get out of here sooner than expected,” Commander Wolffe notes, looking up at the ceiling and the light shining through it.

“That reminds me,” you mutter, tapping your chin, “[what happened to the storm that was supposed to hit here today?]”

“[The storm has passed, thankfully, moving south towards the unoccupied regions of the planet,]” your contact explains, hands clasped in front of her. “[You will be safe to leave once you have completed the work here.]”

“That’s a relief,” you say, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“What’s that, officer?” Wolffe asks, eyes narrowing at your reaction.

“The storm’s moved completely south, we’re out of the trajectory. We can leave today once we’re done,” you explain, a chill causing you to visibly shiver.

“Hear that boys? We can get out of here once we’re done!” he grins, waving the group on. “Sinker, contact Warthog. Tell him we need a ride off this iceberg.”

You smile as you notice that Wolffe’s mood has lifted - most likely due to the fact that you  _ won’t _ have to spend another night sleeping in the ice and cold.

Boost is beaming as he helps you load up the one crate of your own supplies, haphazardly tossing in the recently folded blankets before securing the lid.

“I just folded those!” you object, nose wrinkling.

“Looks like we’ll have to use them all again,” the redhead winks, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Really, Boost?” Sinker groans, rolling his eyes. “Listen, about last night -”

“It’s okay, Sinker,” you smile, features softening. “You don’t have to explain anything.”

The comment catches the sergeant off-guard, causing him to take a step back. “I don’t?”

“You don’t. Now let’s get out of this freezer, yeah?” You turn and head towards Commander Wolffe, who was waiting to lead the pack out of the labyrinth of ice.

Boost and Sinker exchange looks, confused as to what had actually happened when you were walking around with Wolffe.

“Did they actually talk to each other?” Boost whispers, “I didn’t think he’d actually have the balls to tell her.”

“I think he did,” Sinker whispers back, bewildered. “I think she means a lot more than we think she does.”

It takes longer than expected, especially without the help of your contact, but you make it back to the entrance of the ice structure. In the daylight, the ice is dazzling, and you can’t help but admire the beauty of it all.

“Despite how cold it is, the ice is actually rather pretty,” you comment, shrugging your shoulder as you walk alongside the commander.

Wildfire, somewhere behind you, makes a comment about the colors and how  _ shiny _ it is - until he sees fresh snow right outside the archway and makes a run for it.

“Wildfire!” you yelp, quickly reaching for support as you slip on the ice.

“It snowed!” the clone trooper grins, “actual, fresh, white snow!”

“Oh  _ kriff _ ,” Sinker groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as Wolffe helps you up yet again.

“Why do you all look worried?” you ask, though you really wish the question didn’t leave your lips.

“Warthog isn’t going to be here for another thirty minutes,” the sergeant notes, “and Wildfire enjoys snowball fights. I can’t tell you the last time we --”

“Duck!” you yelp, hiding behind the commander.

A snowball comes whizzing by, the snow neatly packed as Wildfire lobs another.

Everyone quickly put on their helmets and you have the realization that things were going to be very unfair in a few moments.

“Oh no, no - absolutely not! This isn’t fair!” you object, throwing your hands up. “Commander?”

“I’m sorry, Officer, what did you say?” Wolffe asks, turning towards you. His helmet hides his expression and you groan. 

Behind you, Boost grabs a handful of snow…

And immediately shoves it down the back of your jacket.

“ _ Besom _ !” you hiss, snarling as you try to get the snow out of your jacket. Mando’a feels like the best way to insult the redhead, though the insult of ‘ill-mannered lout’ just makes him laugh.

“Really,  _ alor, _ is that how you feel about Boost?” Wolffe teases you with your rank as he leans back against the container to watch the ensuing fight. “I mean, he does have a habit of continuously asserting you’re his wife…”

You ignore him, getting ready to launch yourself at the trooper and  _ attempt _ to tackle him… until Sinker grabs you by the waist as you charge, unceremoniously dumping you into the closest snowbank.

“I hate all of you right now,” you snarl, teeth clattering as you climb onto the transport. Your jacket is soaked, and you’re freezing from the snow still clinging to your hair. “See if I help you the next time you need a phrase translated.”

“You will, as that’s your job,” Wolffe removes his helmet, rolling his eyes as Warthog takes off. 

Wildfire quickly pulls a blanket from the container, thrusting it in front of your face before you can say anything. You mask a chuckle, quickly taking it from the trooper’s hand as Boost objects to the comfort - saying something about that was _his_ _job._

As you wrap the blanket around you, the energy surrounding the pack feels stronger than before, as if the impromptu snow fight helped lift their spirits after watching their commander suffer a nightmare episode the night before.

You smile faintly as you make eye contact with Wolffe, who looks as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders now that you’re aware of his secret, aware of his nightmares. He trusts you now more than ever, and he makes a note to ask General Plo Koon for somewhere warm for the next mission.

He just has to be careful with how much he lets you in.


End file.
